


Trigger Finger

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Everything in between tbh, Headcanon, Heavy Angst, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Or Is It?, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Canon, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, SO, much - Freeform, sorry don't know how to tag lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9170995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The person you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger." -Fall Out BoyGabriel Reyes takes in a young punk by the name of Jesse McCree, and finds that the kid has a lot more to learn about than he initially thought.Or, how McCree goes from punk to hero in 8 easy steps over the course of his life.





	1. Lesson One: f

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Overwatch fic! The relationship between McCree and Reaper is one of my favorite things in the whole fandom, and I'm always looking for stories about what McCree's Blackwatch days were like. I decided to combine them in my own story which will hopefully turn out to be okay. This story goes all the way from smol McCree to bamf McCree, so lots of stuff is going to happen owo.

Gabriel Reyes hasn’t made many mistakes in life. It’s what got him this far; in his particular line of work mistakes were more or less a death sentence. His abilities ~~should have made him the commander of Overwatch~~  were what made him the commander of Blackwatch in the first place. Reyes was good at his job. Period.

 

So, of course, Jesse McCree had to come along and turn it all to shit.

 

One of Reyes’ rare slip ups happened the first time they took the boy in. “What do we have here, Jack?” Reyes stood by his side, staring into the interrogation room through the one-way mirror.

 

Jack sighed. “Last one of those Deadlock bastards you picked up. Hurry up and get him over with. I want this case closed, Reyes.” _Always Reyes. He hadn’t been ‘Gabe’ since the promotion._

 

Reyes looked into the room. A figure looked like it was sleeping on the table, arms wrapped around their head and body completely hunched over. He recognized the man from the tacky looking red bandana hanging around the front of his neck. Gabe didn’t personally take him in but he remembered the uncanny accuracy the outlaw possessed. He had no problem exhibiting during the gunfight. Gabe was down six men because of it, and all of them due to single shots straight to the heart.

 

“We interviewed the others days ago. What took this one so long?”

 

Morrison spoke through clenched teeth. “This one has been putting up a bit of a fight. He broke out of the chain handcuffs we originally provided - screwed the locking mechanisms up beyond repair - so we had to use the expensive electrical ones. Little punk short circuited them somehow. Decided to chain him to the floor with industrial grade steel, and he hasn’t managed to get through that yet.”

 

“You’re telling me some outlaw hick managed to hack a pair of military issued tech?” Gabe would’ve laughed if this hadn’t been his problem to deal with.

 

“He’s...smarter than we initially thought.” Jack admitted. “The gun we picked off of him looked like it had some pretty extensive work done, although we couldn’t tell if it was done by the kid or not. Similar craftsmanship was seen on many of the guns we picked up from the gang, but his was tweaked the most.”

 

“What kind of upgrades?”

 

“I’m no gunsmith, but it looked like they were rigged to be able to shoot some pretty high caliber bullets. They were only shooting with revolvers, but the advancements packed quite the punch. They were equipped to shoot specialty bullets meant for rifles, too, which I honestly don’t know how he figured out. Kid’s pretty handy, it seems.”

 

Gabe whistled. “They don’t teach shit like that in high school.”

 

“No they do not.” Jack agreed. “Kid’s smarter than most of the other washups in that gang, and they’re all twice his age.” He scoffed.

 

Gabe froze for a moment. “What do you mean?” He stared back into the small room the punk was locked up in. It was impossible to get a good look on him when he was asleep, so Gabe slammed on the glass, startling both Jack and the person inside alike. The red figure jumped up in his seat and glared at the two men through the glass. It was definitely the same person that Gabe remembered seeing on the field, but now he was able to get a good look at him without bullets flying at his face. What he saw made his hands shake in fury. There was no seasoned outlaw in his interrogation room.

 

There was a _kid._

 

“Por el amor de _Dios,_ Jack, are you fucking kidding me? You’re telling me that there’s been a minor locked up under Blackwatch supervision and I didn’t even know about it?”

 

“He’s 17, Reyes. He can be legally tried as an adult.” Jack refused to look him in the eye.

 

Gabe swore under his breath, uttering every Spanish curse he knew. He knew a _lot._ “Has he eaten? Had anything to drink? Jesus, did you even let the kid use the fucking bathroom?”

 

“Yes, Reyes.” Jack snapped. “He’s a criminal, but he’s still human.”

 

“He’s a kid.”

 

“A kid that killed six Blackwatch agents and countless others.”

 

Gabe turned away. Jack fucking Morrison had a child locked up in a cage and he hadn’t even _known_ about it. Gabe looked back towards the glass. Now that he was awake the kid wouldn't  stop yanking at the chains by his feet. Gabe knew he was going to break something if he didn’t stop. _Maybe he’s trying to break a hand so he can slip it through the shackles,_ Reyes thought. The action reminded him of coyotes, and how they would gnaw off their own legs to escape a bear trap. They made a brief moment of eye contact, and Gabe swore he had never seen so much fire in his entire life.

 

“I’m going to give him an offer.” He decided.

 

Jack narrowed his eyes. “No way in hell.” He scoffed. “Only good that kid can bring about is by being locked in a jail cell. His kind don’t belong in Blackwatch.”

 

“His kind _is_ Blackwatch, Jack.” Reyes snarled. “They’re not all exactly boy scouts like you’ve got in Overwatch. I have teams made up of men that have done things far worse than the kid in there could even dream of.”

 

“He is _not_ going to be a part of this-”

 

“Blackwatch is mine, Jack.” Gabe warned. They had been going about this dance for years; ever since the end of the crisis. Jack would overstep, Gabe would retaliate, both were put back in their place by the U.N. and the cycle would repeat. “Recruiting is up to me only. If he passes training there’s nothing you can do.”

 

Jack stayed quiet for a moment, still refusing to make eye contact. “Kid turns 18 in nine months. You have until then to whip him into something manageable.”

 

Gabe smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. More like a shark about to devour it’s prey. “Plenty of time.” He went to open the door, but was stopped by a strong hand. He looked back and saw Jack, worry clear in his eyes.

 

“Gabe.” He said softly. He hadn’t spoken in that tone - hadn’t even said his _name_ \- since the promotion a couple years back. He sounded almost exactly like the old Jack again; the Jack that used to care about him. Then something flashed through his eyes and he seemed to realize his hand had been on Reyes’ for a prolonged amount of time. He cleared his throat and the soft tone was gone. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” He warned.

 

Gabriel laughed harshly. _Should’ve known,_ he thought. He had almost fallen for it. He knew better, though. Jack would never speak to him as anything other than an equal. Jack would never try to intrude on thing’s he knew was important to Gabe. Jack would _never_ keep a kid locked up in a cell for days on end without even telling him. His Jack was gone, though. There was only Strike Commander Morrison.

 

“I don’t regret _anything._ ” Gabe growled. He opened the door and stepped through, and suddenly it was just him and the kid. He had stopped struggling against the restraints, and was now sizing Gabe up; preparing for a fight. The thought almost made him laugh. The kid was skinny as anything, with lanky limbs that seemed too long for his body and a scruffy patch of brown fuzz growing from his chin. Not only did it look like the kid hadn’t even had his growth spurt yet; it looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in _months._

 

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.” The kid spoke first. His voice was surprisingly calm despite the fire roaring behind his eyes. They were brown a deep, rich brown, so dark they were almost black in the dim light of the interrogation room.

 

“I don’t want any more info on your little gang.” Gabe dismissed as he sat down. “I just want to talk to you.”

 

The kid laughed. God, did that stupid smirk _ever_ leave his face? “Do I look like an idiot to you?” He drawled.

 

“Yes.” Gabe replied. “You play the idiot act pretty damn well for somebody that was able to break out of two different sets of handcuffs and modify a whole slew of revolvers.”

 

The kid squirmed in his seat again. “Wasn’ me.” He lied.

 

“Of course it was. You think we didn’t notice that your gun was the fanciest?” Gabe laughed.

 

“I ain’t tellin’ ya how I did it.” He snapped.

 

Reyes shrugged. “You don’t have to. I honestly don’t care. The modifications work, but they look awful sloppy.”

 

The kid laughed. “I’m sure it’s better than any shit _you_ coulda done.” He spat.

 

Gabe sighed. “Now is not the time for games, chavalo.” He warned. “Do you even realize how much trouble you’re in right now?”

 

The boy spat on the floor as he readjusted the restraints. “Don’t matter.” He slurred. His accent was obnoxiously thick, almost like he was purposefully drawing it out to annoy Reyes. Judging by the gravel in his tone he was also trying to make his voice far deeper than it actually was too. “Give ‘em a day or two. They’ll come an get me, just you wait.”

 

“There’s nobody coming for you, chico.” The man laughed harshly. “We took nearly all of your little gang down in that standoff. Whoever was left ran with their tail between their legs. You’re stuck with us now, kid.”

 

“I ain’t no kid!” He insisted, voice cracking back to its natural timbre. He cleared his throat before he continued with a deeper tone that was just as venomous.. “They wouldn’ leave me. They ain’t like that. We’s a family.”

 

“A family that stood by as you were taken in by government officials.” Reyes snapped. “You’ve been here for days, kid. Nobody is coming.”

 

Something in the kid broke right then. His expression broke suddenly from defiant to scared and Reyes almost sympathized with him. This wasn’t some rough and tough wild west outlaw; it was a seventeen year old boy that sounded like he wasn’t even through with puberty yet. Kid was only a couple inches shorter than himself, but in that moment he looked so _small_.

 

“I still ain’t gonna tell ya nothin’.” He sniffed.

 

Reyes nodded, and the two sat in silence for a moment. The kid was glaring at him once more, but it wasn’t as hostile as before. His eyes looked more tired than anything. “Why don’t you tell me your name, chico?” He asked, voice suddenly much softer.

 

The kid glared, refusing to answer. His eyes met the commander’s in a defiant stand off. Gabe’s impatience won out, so he decided to skip that question.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty three.”

 

“Lie to them. Not to me. I want to help you.”

 

“That’s a goddamn lie!” He strained against the chains again, rubbing the skin raw and turning his wrists an even deeper shade of red than before. “You ain’t tryna help me! You just wanna see me locked up like...like some sorta animal.” He spat.

 

“That’s not true.” Gabe shook his head. “How old are you?”

 

The boy slumped in his chair. “17.” He admitted. Gabe whistled.

 

“That’s a lot of life to be throwing away, chico. Right now you’re facing life without parole at best, and death penalty at worst. Is that what you want?”

 

The kid muttered something under his breath.

 

“I didn’t think so. I’m giving you a choice. You could go to prison; meet some guys that are _real_ gang members and not some punk ass kids with guns.” Jesse opened his mouth but Reyes didn’t let him interrupt. “Or you could train under me and join the organization I work for.”

 

“That ain’t a choice and you know it!” McCree shouted. “I’m signin’ my life away either or! There ain’t no goddamn difference!” He began to strain against his cuffs again.

 

“That’s for you to decide.”

 

The fire was back in the boy's eyes, his posture set back like a rattlesnake about to strike. “Why do you care anyway?” The kid spat.

 

 _Because I see myself in your anger and I don’t want to see another kid make the mistakes I did,_ he thought. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t, chavalo. There’s only one way to find out.” Reyes stood up and backed towards the door. “I want an answer, chico, and I don’t take too kindly to waiting.”

 

He was back in the room again, standing by the door. Jack was by the window, still looking into the room and no doubt thinking about the conversation Gabe just had with the kid.

 

“You see that right there, Reyes?” Jack asked. “You’re looking at a lost cause.”

 

“I don’t think so. You didn’t see that kid in the field, Morrison. He was able to disarm one of my guys from a couple hundred feet away with nothing but that revolver of his. He might have modified the thing, but there’s no aiming system on it at all. There’s something there.”

 

“He was in a gang Reyes, not a pound. You’re looking at a seasoned criminal. This isn’t some puppy you can nurse back to health.”

 

“He’s just a kid, Jack.” Gabe snapped. “Only seventeen years old. When we were his age you were on a barn and I was in the streets. Both of us were headed nowhere. We were given a second chance. He deserves one too.”

 

Jack sighed and rubbed at his temples. The new shadows around the Strike Commander’s eyes didn’t escape Gabe’s notice. “Deserving it is one thing, Gabe.” He glanced into the cell McCree was located in. The boy had his head resting in his arms. “Whether or not he’ll make it is another thing entirely.”

 

“Kid’s got something, Jack.”

 

“Blackwatch isn’t a walk in the park, Reyes. He isn’t going to be shooting up robots and going to photoshoots. The things you guys do might be too much for him.”

 

Reyes looked at the boy through the glass. The short, scrawny kid who couldn’t even find a place in a gang. The kid who looked like he was crying and mumbling all sorts of words under his breath. The kid who refused to back down, even when he was handcuffed to a table in a Blackwatch cell. “He’ll make it. I know he will. Kid has guts.”

 

“If he accepts.” Jack reminded him.

 

“He will.”

 

~~~

 

Kid accepted the offer, just like Reyes knew he would. Like the kid said, he really wasn’t presented with that much of a choice.

 

“Welcome aboard, chico.” Reyes clapped the boy’s shoulder, nearly sending him tumbling into the wall. His lanky frame was completely blanketed in the training fatigues he had been given.

 

“Yeah, yippee ki yay to me.” The kid growled. “You gon’ tell me exactly what’s goin’ on here now?”

 

“Blackwatch is the covert ops division of Overwatch. Nothing we do is public; nothing can be traced directly back to Overwatch. We get the missions the public does not and can not know about. We get the controversial cases; the dirty work. It’s probably one of the most dangerous positions in the world.”

 

“So glad I didn’ choose prison.” He muttered under his breath. Reyes glared at him.

 

“At least this way you _might_ just get to see the sky again. Besides,” Reyes reached into his bag and threw a crumpled hat at the kid. “...you never would have gotten that ridiculous hat back.”

 

The kid smiled, then, the first time Reyes had ever seen him do so. It was just for a moment, but it was enough to see that something carefree and _happy_ still existed somewhere inside the boy. He prayed that Blackwatch wouldn’t break the kid’s spirit. “I was startin’ to get worried I wasn’ ever gonna see her again.”

 

“It’s not regulation, so only wear it during leisure times or Morrison will be on my ass about it.” Reyes grumbled. “Get some sleep. Meet me in the training facilities at 0900 tomorrow. It’s gonna be a long day. Don’t be late.”

 

“Gee, really lookin’ forward to it, jefe.” McCree grumbled. The word _jefe_ still made Gabe’s blood boil. Even though the kid said it with easy eyes and a small smile, he knew that it was meant to be taken as an insult. The kid _spat_ it at him, chewing on his words carefully before deciding what to say. He had a sharp tongue, and if he wasn’t careful it could get him in serious trouble.

 

He didn’t let any of this show, of course. If this whole gig was going to work, the kid was going to have to learn to trust him. Losing his temper with the _chavalo_ on the first night was a perfect way to ensure that would never happen. Instead, Gabe smiled wolfishly at the boy before he began to close the door.

 

“Jefe?” The kid spoke. Gabe looked up, hand still on the doorknob and body almost completely out the door. The boy looked contemplatively at his hat, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Always thinking about his words before saying them. “My name’s McCree. Jesse McCree.”


	2. Lesson One: fig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redemption is never easy.

“You’re late, chavalo.”

 

“Good morning to you too, jefe.” 

 

Reyes stood in the training room with his arms crossed, thoroughly unimpressed. The boy looked like he had just rolled out of bed, eyes still heavy with sleep and hair an untamed mess. Of course the kid didn’t seem to care and flashed a lopsided grin at Reyes.

 

Reyes clenched his jaw. “Twenty laps around the gym.” He barked. 

 

The smirk left Jesse’s face immediately. “Are you shittin’ me?” The kid complained. “It’s 9:00 in the freakin’ morning and you want me to  _ run- _ ”

 

“It’s 9:18.” Reyes interrupted. His face remained stoic, if vaguely annoyed. “Think about that next time you decide to sleep in. Twenty laps.”

 

Jesse shot another glare at Reyes before he started off at a slow jog around the room, mumbling under his breath.

 

“What was that, chico?” Reyes shouted.

 

“Nothing, jefe!” He called back.

 

It took the kid fifteen whole minutes to run a little under a mile. He jogged slowly over to Reyes, taking his sweet time. He could tell by the smirk on the kid’s face and the lack of sweat that he ran slowly for the sole purpose of pissing Gabe off, and in all honesty he was doing a pretty good job of doing it. They had so little time to begin with; screwing around like this was a luxury Jesse couldn’t afford if he wanted to stay out of prison.           

 

“I want twenty more.” He said cooly.

 

“Are you - are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, jefe?” The kid complained. One look at Reyes revealed that no, he was  _ not  _ kidding, and he set off at another slow job around the gym.

 

“I want this one done in less than ten minutes or I’m making you do another twenty.” 

 

The kid swore loudly from the other side of the gym and increased his speed dramatically.

 

The day only went downhill from there. The kid was good at shooting, but was more focused on show ponying than learning how to use more advanced guns. He was actually pretty good at throwing knives and such too, but you couldn’t tell from the way he tried to balance everything on the tip of his nose like some sort of circus elephant. Reyes’ patience finally wore out when they began hand to hand combat, and honestly he’s proud for having lasted that long.

 

“You move too much, chico. You’re going to run right into the enemy.” Reyes instructed. They were in the boxing ring Blackwatch agents used to spar and train. Jesse wasn’t knocked down yet, but that’s just because he kept on hopping around the ring like the Energizer Bunny on crack. 

 

“I’m tryin’ to wear ya down.” Jesse defended. “That way it’s easier to take ya out.”

 

“I’m an enhanced soldier, chavalo.” Reyes snapped. “The only way you could wear me down is by shooting me in the legs.”

 

“I usually do have a gun on me.” 

 

“You can’t rely on your shooting forever.”

 

“I don’ just rely on my shootin’!” Jesse complained. His point was made moot when Reyes grabbed hold of his arm and flipped him onto the floor. He placed a knee on Jesse’s back, making escape impossible. 

 

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Reyes sighed, letting go of Jesse and standing up. 

 

“Still think it’s stupid.” Jesse pouted. “I got my gun, and ain’t nobody going anywhere near me with that thing. I don’ see why we gotta-”

 

Reyes had had enough. Jesse’s nagging was cut off abruptly by Reyes grabbing the collar of his too-big training fatigues, jerking the kid’s face closer to his own and leaving just his toes on the ground. “Listen here, chavalo.” He growled. “I only have  _ nine months.  _ That’s less than a fucking year to turn you from some scrawny little punk into a special ops agent. Everybody else here has spent their entire lives perfecting things that I only have  _ nine months to teach you _ . So if you want to just dick around like this is some kind of joke, go right ahead. Ruin your only shot at freedom. I don’t care. I didn’t go against the wishes of fucking Strike Commander Morrison to deal with some little cabron that thinks this is a joke.” He set the kid down.

 

“I  _ am _ takin’ this seriously-”

 

“Not seriously enough.” Reyes snapped. “You do realize that if you don’t pass the board’s evaluation you’ll wind up in jail, right? This is the only chance you’ve got, chico, and at this rate that stupid fucking cowboy hat of yours is going to wind up in a prison dumpster.”

 

For the first time since Gabe had met the kid, McCree was silent. He almost felt bad for blowing up on him.  _ He’s got to learn,  _ he justified.  _ If I don’t help him get his act together nobody else will. _ Reyes cleared his throat. “We’re finished for today. Meet me here tomorrow at 0900.” 

 

The kid didn’t look up from the ground. “Sure thing, jefe.” He mumbled.

 

~~~

 

After that Jesse began to improve little by little every day. His attitude was still an issue of course, along with his mouth, and his personality...his whole demeanor was a problem, really. That didn’t matter to Reyes. He couldn’t force the kid to act like a soldier, but if he had the skills of one then maybe,  _ just  _ maybe, Jesse could survive in Blackwatch. 

 

Jesse seemed to be developing a soft spot for his commander, though. It had been two months since the day in the jail cell, two months since Reyes gave Jesse an ultimatum, and the kid no longer seemed to hate him for it. He would still tease and taunt the commander, but he was also slowly beginning to listen to Reyes more and more as well. It was almost as if the kid was starting to  _ respect  _ him, as ridiculous as it sounded in his head. 

Jack was still upset with his decision. If their relationship had been rocky before then it was crumbling now.  He brought it up one night as they sat in Reye’s office. For years it had been tradition to meet up whenever the could manage and just talk the night away. Tonight was the first time they had done so in months, and Gabe knew it was just Jack’s way of trying to salvage their relationship. He wanted what they had before, and Gabe did too. 

 

The only difference was that Gabe knew they were long past saving.

 

“The kid’s a mess, Reyes.” Jack muttered. He was slumped against a chair and had a glass full of amber colored liquid in the hand that wasn’t pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you’re even trying.”

 

“I’m trying because he’s highly skilled for his age and I think he could be of use for us.” Gabe replied. There was no drink in his hand. Long ago it used to be Gabe that got drunk and Jack that stayed sharp and clear headed. They were both young and restless, but Jack was the perfect yin to Gabe’s yang. Now they were both just...tired.

 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Jack replied bitterly, words burning like the scotch down his throat. “He’s arrogant. He doesn’t respect you, or anybody else for that matter. Above all, Gabe, the kid is  _ selfish.  _ He wouldn’t last ten minutes out in the field.”

 

“He’s just a kid, Jack.” Gabe sighed. This was unfamiliar territory for him. Usually he was the one that got angry first. Maybe it was the alcohol. “I-”

 

“Yes, I know, you see yourself in him.” Jack snapped. “If it were anybody else you would’ve snapped their neck on the first day. Why do you care about this little punk so much?”

 

“I don’t care.” Reyes snapped. He couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. “I took him in; it was a moment of weakness, okay? The kid caught me off guard. Yeah, he’s a punk, but I have to at least see him through training or I’ll look like an idiot. In all honesty I couldn’t give two shits about the kid. I just need to make sure he passes that exam, or the Board will never be off my back about it. Whatever happens to him afterward isn’t my concern.” 

 

The door creaked and Jack laughed harshly. Gabe couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard the sound of angry footsteps heading away from the door. It was impossible to tell with Jack speaking. “It’s good that you’re not getting attached, Reyes, because that kid isn’t going to make it. You can train him all you want, and he may even pass that test, but some people aren’t meant for the field.”

 

“I know.” Gabe sighed.

 

The two sat in a pregnant silence a long while after that. Jack didn’t look up from his drink, and Gabe didn’t look up from the floor. He heard the clink of Jack’s glass on the table, and then the thud of his boots on the floor. Gabe felt his hand on his shoulder, warm and constricting. “Be careful, Gabe.”  

  
When Reyes finally left his office later that night, he never noticed the small scrap of scarlet fabric that was caught on on his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so short :( However, I have a lot planned for this story and this chapter was necessary in the scheme of things. Especially for the short term.
> 
>  
> 
> And no, Jesse's first life lesson isn't about figs. The lesson isn't complete, so neither is the title. This is simply the way things must be.


	3. Lesson One: figh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am leaving, I am leaving." 
> 
> But the fighter still remains.

There was an immediate change in McCree’s behavior after Gabe’s conversation with Jack. He was almost  _ quiet,  _ which was a word Gabe never thought he would use to describe the kid. After a couple of weeks of this behavior it became apparent that he wasn’t the only one to notice, either.

 

“Hey, captain, what’s up with the kid?” 

 

“Beats me.” Gabe shrugged. “What did you guys do to piss him off?”

 

The woman sitting in front of his desk pouted. She wore the same black armor everybody else in Blackwatch did, with the name “Kane” stenciled over the left breast. “I try to avoid the kid. As far as I know everybody else does too.” 

 

Reyes narrowed his eyes. Kane was one of his best agents. They picked her up after a raid in England, and had been given the same ultimatum as McCree (and nearly everybody else in Blackwatch). She had been a thief, and her slight frame and skills made her invaluable for breaking into buildings undetected. They also made her nearly impossible to trust. “Is that so?” He asked.

 

She nodded in response. “That’s why we figured you must’ve done something.”

 

Gabe leaned back in his chair. “Well, whatever the reason is, I’m glad for the quiet. Why do you care, anyway?”

 

Kane stood, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, no reason.” She laughed airily. “Just that Owens is teaching him a lesson in the cafeteria.”

 

_ “What?”  _ Reyes was up from his desk and out the door before Kane could ever reply. He heard her light footsteps behind him as he stormed through the hall, but didn’t bother slowing down. Skirmishes happen in Blackwatch all the time. If you force a whole bunch of dangerous /criminals/ people together, there’s bound to be a fight here and there. What concerned him was that Owens was nearly 300 pounds of solid muscle with a long history of bounty hunting and weapons trading to back it up. Jesse may not be the scrawny little twig he had been four months ago, he still had a long way to go before he could go toe to toe with a guy like Owens. 

The cafeteria was chaotic. The tables and chairs were all pushed up against a wall, and it seemed like everybody in Blackwatch had gathered around to watch the brawl. In the middle of the room was Owens, all 6’6’’ feet of him towering over Jesse. To his credit, the kid didn’t look afraid. Oh, he  _ felt  _ afraid, that’s for damn sure, but there was no way in hell he’d let everybody see that. 

 

The two were playing a game of cat and mouse around the cleared area of the room. Jesse was using the same technique he had used against Reyes that very first day at training, except this time Reyes was relieved to see it. He wasn’t just blindly running around anymore; he would constantly change the speed and directions he was running to try and confuse his assailant, and it appeared to be working.  _ Good,  _ he thought.  _ Owens has a lot more weight to carry around than Jesse. He can outrun him easily. Owens gets lazy when he’s tired, and it would be easy to dodge his attacks and peck at him. Like a wolf fighting a bear. _

 

“Smart kid.” Reyes muttered to himself. 

 

“What?” Kane had finally caught up to him. He shook his head and she pouted. “Well? Aren’t you going to stop them?” The crowd around them payed no mind to the fact that their commander was now present. Many of them didn’t seem to notice; instead they were filming the whole ordeal with their phones and Gabe had to suppress the urge to groan.

 

“I only rushed down here because I was worried we would have to wash the kid off of the walls.” Gabe said. “Now...I’m not so sure. I want to see what happens.”

 

“Owens is going to crush the kid.” Kane reminded.   
  


“I don’t know. You’d be surprised at what the brat is capable of.”

 

Out on the floor, Jesse was exhausted. He had only said one thing.  _ One  _ thing, and it had made the giant he was speaking to absolutely furious. Was it a smart choice to make fun of a 300lb behemoth straight to his face? No, probably not. But Owens had been making some  _ very  _ obscene remarks about Agent Kane and some other ladies. Jesse’s momma raised him right (or tried to, at least) with what little time she had, and he knew better than to let somebody talk about  _ any  _ woman like that. 

 

Although in hindsight, he probably could’ve said something better than “What, are all of them muscles supposed to be compensating for somethin’, Luggy?” It wasn’t nearly the worst insult he’d ever dished out, but it had enraged Owens anyway. So now Jesse was stuck in the middle of the cafeteria with all exits blocked off, being chased by a man that resembled a rhinoceros more than an actual person. 

 

“You think - you can talk like that - to  _ me? _ ” Owens roared in between breaths. Jesse was pleased that the larger man seemed to follow every single brains v. brawn stereotype in the book. The old lug was as slow as he was large.

 

“Come now, I didn’ mean nothin’ by it!” Jesse called over his shoulder. Running around in a confusing array of circles seemed to be working, but it was also making  _ him  _ dizzy. He was going to run out of juice if he didn’t figure something out fast. A clint at a nearby table caught his eye; somebody had left a butter knife on their plate.  _ It’s not weighted, and I’ll have to throw it pretty damn hard, but it’s all I’ve got. _

 

“You’re dead meat, kid!” Agent Luggy roared. He charged with a burst of speed that Jesse didn’t think he was capable of. Without thinking he reached for the butter knife with his left hand, and time slowed down dramatically. Jesse was lucky; he had no control over this skill, and it only ever showed itself during occasions like this when he was fighting for his life. The room seemed to go silent, even though he could see the people around him open and close their mouths. Jesse even swore he saw Reyes out of the corner of his eye, standing at the edge of the room and looking almost impressed. Luggy’s steps were agonizingly slow, but the whole front of his body was revealed towards Jesse. 

 

Lethal: heart, head, neck, eyes.

 

Nonlethal: shoulder, upper and lower arms, legs.

_ “Always shoot to kill, Jesse.” _ A faraway voice whispered into his ear.

 

Jesse’s arm shot forward.

 

The knife flew from his hand with an easy flick of the wrist.

 

The weapon hit it’s target with a sickening  _ thud _ , and three things happened at once.

 

Time rushed back into place. He could feel a ringing in his ears and a faint headaches as the loud noises of the room greeted him once more. It was almost dizzying, seeing everything at full speed again.

 

Owens collapsed to the ground. The man was not dead; instead he was screaming bloody murder, clutching the knife that stuck out of his bleeding eye. It wasn’t sharp enough to pierce through the skull, not when it was being thrown by a kid who was just barely starting to develop some muscle mass. Jesse knew this the second he threw the knife. 

 

_ “You were always a weak little boy, Jesse, weren’t you?”  _ The faraway voice leered.

 

Before Jesse could react to the sight in front of him, a strong hand roughly grabbed his forearm and started dragging him away. A group of people now surrounded Owens, who was still screaming on the ground. The cafeteria doors closed behind him, and the screaming was reduced to a muffled yell.

 

Reyes stood in front of Jesse, arms crossed and eyes leery. The last thing Jesse wanted to do at the moment was talk to his commander. No, not commander - his jailer. “What the hell was that?” Reyes asked calmly.

 

“Ol Luggy and me got into a disagreement.” Jesse muttered, refusing to make eye contact. Gabe snorted; the sound almost sounded like a laugh.

 

“I could see that.” He said. “I’m talking about that ninja shit you pulled with the butter knife. There was no way you should’ve been able to throw that knife fast enough to take down Owens. How did you do it?”

 

Jesse contemplated, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Guys back in Deadlock used to call it Deadeye.” He admitted. “I dunno why; they said it used to be from some old cowboy game.”

 

“What is it?” Gabe asked. There was an odd glint in his eyes; the man almost looked  _ hungry _ .

 

“I dunno.” Jesse snapped. “It just kind of makes time slow down enough for me to catch my bearings and the like. It’s only happened a couple of times.”

 

Gabe laughed and clapped a hand onto Jesse’s shoulder; the impact still made the poor kid jar forward. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do this, chavala? Do you know how useful this could be?”

 

Jesse glared at the commander. “Useful enough to last more than one mission?” The kid snapped. The smile slowly disappeared from Gabe’s face as the realization hit him.

 

“Ah.” He sighed. “So you heard that conversation.”

 

“Yeah, I heard it.” Jesse snarled. “I heard that you don’t think I’ll last a single Blackwatch mission. You lied when you said you cared about what happened to me in the cell all them months ago. I fuckin’ knew it would happen, too. I should've just taken prison.”

 

“You wouldn’t have lasted a day in prison.”

 

“At least there wasn’t anybody telling me I would!” Jesse seethed. “I don’ take too kindly to liars, jefe.” 

 

“I didn’t want you to end up and jail.” 

 

“You said you cared and I believed you even though I knew I shouldn’ of. You just wanted me for a weapon.”

 

“So what if I did?” Reyes snapped. “That’s why everybody in Blackwatch is here, chavalo. What do you think makes you so different?”

 

Jesse bit his tongue and stayed silent. After a moment he spoke up again. “You weren’t lying when you said you didn’ think I’d last a day, huh?” He asked. The question was riddled with anger and accusation.

 

“No.”

 

“You’re wrong.” Jesse scowled. “I know I could.”

 

“Prove it to me, then.” Reyes replied calmly.

 

Jesse stared at the man. He had been expecting an argument from the commander. He was expected Reyes to make up some sort of excuse or lie. He definitely wasn’t expecting a challenge. “Excuse me?” 

 

“Prove me wrong.” Reyes shrugged. “Listen, kid. You got guts. But I wasn’t kidding when you overheard me with Morrison. Right now you’d be killed during a mission in ten minutes flat. You have a lot of work to do, and even though I think you’ll pass the test I don’t think you’ll survive afterwards.”

 

“I’ve got what it takes.” McCree snapped. “I could be a better agent than any one of the yanks in there.”

 

Reyes replied with a strange smile. “Sure, kid.” He shook his head before turning around and walking down the hall.

 

“Hey! We ain’t finished talkin’ yet!” Jesse yelled after him. Anger boiled through his blood. Anger for Reyes, anger for Overwatch, anger for  _ everything.  _ “I can do it! Just you wait, you’ll see! I’m gonna pass that stupid test and be the best goddamn agent Blackwatch has ever seen. You hear me? I’m gonna prove you wrong!” 

 

The shouts followed him like ghosts through the hallway. Gabe didn’t turn around, but he smiled sadly to himself. The plan worked - the kid had his fight back. God knows Jesse McCree could pass evaluation test based on determination alone; he just needed a little push.  _ This is what he needs _ , Gabe thought.  _ A reason to fight. You had no other choice but to do this.  _ The thoughts did nothing to reassure him about his decision.  _ He’ll make it now.  _

  
Reyes only wished he could help Jesse survive in a way that didn’t make the kid hate him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of the first lesson, folks!


	4. Lesson One: fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The hero's journey always begins with the call." -Joseph Campbell

The months continued to pass by at an alarming rate. The date of Jesse’s final exam was looming ever closer, and Reyes could tell that the board was going to be especially harsh with evaluating McCree.

 

He wasn’t worried.

 

Ever since the fight in the cafeteria, Jesse worked day and night to improve his skills. His precision while aiming was unmatched in all of Blackwatch, and his hand-to-to prowess was beginning to catch up. After nearly nine months, Jesse was a longshot from the kid that Reyes took in.

 

“Nice shot, chavalo.” Reyes would say after Jesse unloaded his gun onto the target. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

 

“I just imagine it’s you, jefe.” Jesse would smile back at him, but it never reached his eyes.

 

“That takedown wasn’t half bad, chico.” Reyes commented after Jesse started to get the hang of fighting. “Maybe soon you’ll be able to last a couple seconds with me.”

 

“Don’t forget what happened with Owens, jefe.” Jesse would spit out.

 

For the first couple of weeks after their encounter, Gabe would try and speak with Jesse whenever he could find the time to. It never worked. Jesse spent all of his free time training, whether it be with his guns or fighting. He even caught him in the workshop one night, tinkering around with a couple of guns. It wasn’t just Reyes the kid was avoiding, either; Jesse refused to talk to anyone. Eventually, after about two months with no progress, he gave up. Jesse was turning into a good soldier, and that’s all that mattered in Blackwatch.

 

The months flew by.

 

On the day of Jesse’s evaluation, Reyes didn’t even get to wish him good luck. The kid was gone before anybody woke up, more than ready to take his test. Gabe couldn’t even begin to imagine how he must be feeling. If he didn’t pass, then it would be life in prison. Gabe knew a fate like that was worse than death for a kid like Jesse.

 

A part of him, a small part that he wished would keep quiet, wanted to be there with Jesse. He wanted to comfort the kid, let him know that everything would be okay, that he was more than ready. He wanted to guide the kid through his very last steps until his life officially belonged to Blackwatch. But Reyes knew that would never happen, never _could_ happen because of how much Jesse hated him, so he let it be. It was better for the kid to hate him - it honestly was. Really. It was the only thing that made the little cabron _listen_ for once in his life. It was the right thing to do, for Jesse.

 

But every time Gabe ~~lied to himself~~ told himself that, it felt wrong. It felt just like when he was a kid and the only thing that kept him going was anger. Jack said that was his problem; Reyes was never pleased with anything. He was never satisfied. Gabe didn’t want that life for Jesse.  It was the life that forced him into Blackwatch in the first place.

 

“There’s nothing you can do anyway, Reyes.” He whispered bitterly to himself in the wooded confines of his office. “What’s done is done.”

 

Reyes couldn’t help but feel like he shouldn’t have taken in the kid at all. Whether he was still in the gang, or in prison, or in Blackwatch, his life would still be the same. It would still be fueled by rage.

 

Reyes remember the fire in Jesse’s eyes the first time he saw the kid, when he was trying to break his wrist to escape the shackles. Reyes didn’t want to see that fire go out, leaving just the husk of what used to be in piles of ash and bone. He knew first hand how quickly rage burned. It burned as quickly as the guilt that was eating away at his insides, reminding him of what he’d done, of what he’d force this _kid_ into.

 

Gabe only ever wanted to save the kid, but he only destroyed him.

 

~~~

 

Morrison’s office should’ve felt familiar to him. He had been in it a countless number of times over the years. There was no reason for it to feel uncomfortable to him. But the moment he walked in this time, the moment he saw Jack’s shoulders slumped over the desk, the moment he read the plague on the wooden surface that read _Strike Commander Morrison,_ everything familiar about the office flew out the window and left an uncortable ache in his chest instead. His throat felt constricted, and he took a couple of deep breaths.

 

“It looks like your stray passed the eval, Reyes.” Morrison informed him bitterly.

 

Reyes breathed a sigh of relief, but it was for show more than anything. He knew the kid could do it. He’d seen the determination in his eyes; the _fight._ “Looks like you were wrong about this one, Jack.” Reyes chuckled.

 

Morrison frowned. “I still don’t trust the kid.”

 

“It’s not that you don’t trust him. You just don’t like him.”

 

Morrison’s shoulders tensed. “That’s not true.”

 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s an agent now, Jack. My agent.”

 

The Strike Commander breathed heavily through his nose. “I know. I just really hope taking this kid in doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, Reyes.”

 

“Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.” Reyes shrugged. “I think he’s going to be an essential asset.”

 

Morrison shook his head. “You better hope so.” The Strike Commander sighed. He sounded tired.

 

“I do.” Reyes replied quietly. _I hope so too._

 

~~~

 

The first time Gabe saw Jesse after he passed the evaluation, the kid was sitting on the floor of the shooting range. Blackwatch kept most of it’s weapon in a large vault, and some of them were showcased in decorative shelves. Jesse was looking at these shelves intensely, eyes gazing over them with a strangely sad look. It felt oddly foreign to him, seeing the kid with a look on his face that wasn’t masked over with disgust or rage.

 

“Can I get it back?” Jesse asked suddenly. Reyes was surprised; he didn’t even think Jesse knew he was there.

 

“Get what back?” He asked hesitantly. He was treading on thin ice and he knew it. Gabe didn’t want to poison the kid more than he already had.

 

“My gun.” Jesse asked. He spoke in a soft tone, drawing out his accent. “The one you took when I first started. I figured...you know, since I’m an agent now.”

 

Reyes was too shocked for a moment to answer. Jesse seemed pretty upset about not having the weapon. Had he always felt like this? Had there been emotions behind the fire in Jesse’s eyes the past couple of months that _weren’t_ disgust or anger? Reyes honestly couldn’t answer that; he had been dealing with nothing but anger from Jesse for so long that he almost didn’t know how to respond. “That scrap heap you call a gun?” He eventually chuckled. It sounded forced, even to his own ears.

 

“Don’t call it a scrap of metal.” Jesse snapped. His eyes didn’t convey the same anger his voice did. “It’s much more than that.”

 

Reyes stared at Jesse for the moment. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Jesse smiled at Reyes - a huge genuine smile, the kind that made your cheeks hurt and your eyes crinkle - for the first time since the beginning of the training. It made the kid look younger. More carefree. “Good. I don’t care what you say, but the hunks of metal you’ve been givin’ me are definitely made for you right-handed folk.”

 

“You’re ambidextrous, chavalo.” Reyes sighed.

 

“Only while shootin’. That don't’ count. I’m as left-handed as can be.” Jesse scoffed.

 

The sat in silence for a moment. Reyes was about to turn and leave when the kid spoke again. “I’m not angry anymore, you know.” He said softly.

 

Reyes turned towards the kid. “What?” His eyes were knit together in confusion.

 

Jesse shrugged. “I’m not angry with you anymore.” He said plainly. “I was for a good while, but now I ain’t. Not as much, at least. Don’t mean I like you, ‘cause I still don’t. But I ain’t mad anymore.”

 

Reyes looked at him. “I don’t know if this is supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing.”

 

Jesse continued to stare into the thick glass of the weapons vault. “I’ve been thinkin’ alot lately.” He began slowly. “And I decided that if I’m gonna have a go at this whole...I dunno, redemption thing, I oughta have a good start. Nothin’ good comes from startin’ things when you’re angry, ya see, and I don’t really wanna screw this up.”

 

Gabe didn’t know how to respond. He chewed on his lower lip for a minute, trying to decide what was the right thing to say. The damn kid was still a mystery to him. How was a 17 year old punk able to come to a conclusion that took him years to figure out? A conclusion he wasn’t able to come to until it was already too late? “The anger was supposed to give you something to fight for. And it did.” He finally justified.

 

“It did.” Jesse agreed. “But I figured that’s really not a good reason for nothin’, you know? Doin’ somethin’ just ‘cause you're angry...it never works out.”

 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Gabe commented. Jesse didn’t answer. Reyes stood up and unlocked the weapons vault. It was a DNA scan, so the doors only opened to a select few. After a couple of minutes rummaging around in it, he placed a heavy object into Jesse’s hand.

 

The gun was like a familiar stranger to Jesse. It was exactly like he remembered it, but now he was so different. The hands holding the gun weren’t the same as before. Gabe noticed an inscription on the side. “What does it say?” He asked.

 

Jesse didn’t even glance at the gun.“ _Creador La Paz._ ” He replied softly.

 

The irony wasn’t lost on Reyes. “Peacemaker.”

 

Jesse nodded with a curt laugh. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t been makin’ much peace with it. That’s gonna change though.”

 

“I didn’t know you knew Spanish.”

 

“My momma immigrated from Mexico when she was a teenager and my dad lived in southern New Mexico all his life.” Jesse paused for a minute, chewing on his words carefully. “Pa’s actually the one I got the gun from.”

 

“Did he give it to you?”

 

Something dark flashed through Jesse’s eyes. “No. I stole it from him.”

 

Gabe didn’t press the conversation any further. He knew that it wasn’t a story Jesse felt comfortable sharing at the moment, and he didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace they were starting to rebuild.

 

Jesse broke the silence. “Anger gave me a reason to fight for a while.” He repeated. “Like you said, I was angry. Angry at you, and at Overwatch, and at everything really. But I was remindin’ myself of somebody I hated. So I found somethin’ else that’s worth fighting for instead.”

 

Gabe could feel the heaviness of his words as he spoke them. “What did you find?”

 

Jesse looked up from the floor for the first time since they had started talking, twirling Peacemaker in his fingers. “Hope. Redemption. Peace. Justice.” The words left his lips like ghosts, completely filling up the space between him and Gabe. “You know, all that wishy washy shit. Things that’ll change the world for the better.”

 

Gabe looked at the boy sadly. “It’s a long path, chico. Are you sure that’s the one you wanna take?” He couldn’t get over how much he saw _himself_ in the kid. There used to be a time where all he wanted was to make the world a better place, too. Back when he was young, still just a soldier in the SEP with Jack.

 

That was before the very world he was trying to save crushed his dreams; crunching them up until they were unrecognizable and then spitting them back out. Before it left him scrambling to fit everything back into place, like it used to be before Overwatch and The Crisis and the promotion. Back to the way things were when it was just him and Jack.

 

Before it all fell apart.

 

Jesse nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

 

Gabe didn’t respond. After a second he decided to stand up and pushed his body off of the floor. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, chico. It ain’t gonna be an easy one.” The words felt heavy coming out of his mouth. He didn’t care - he _shouldn’t_ care about whatever this kid told himself to help him sleep at night. It was none of his business. He just needed the kid to show up, shoot a couple of bad guys, and leave. It didn’t matter to him why the kid did those things. It _shouldn’t matter._

 

So why did it matter so much to him?

 

“I’ve been chewin’ on this for a while.” Jesse replied. “This wasn’t some overnight wake n’ bake shit. I think I decided a long time ago what I wanted to do, and I just haven’t been man enough to admit it until now.” He stood up too, although he still faced the weapons vault. Reyes noted absentmindedly that Jesse was just as tall as him now, and his once lanky form was beginning to fill out.  _Huh,_ he thought.  _When did that happen?_

 

“There’s a mission coming up in Dorado, Mexico.” Gabe said. “I think you could be useful. It’s only me and a couple others that are going right now. There are reports of a new gang stirring around that we want to check out. Nothing too major.”

 

Jesse smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a good start.” He said. Gabe smiled and left the room. Jesse could hear the door close with a loud _thud_ and the soft click of the locking mechanisms. He twiddled with Peacemaker in the fingers of his left hand, staring blankly at the weapon that was so familiar to his hands and yet so distinctly foreign to his new mind.

 

“Sounds like a good start.” He repeated softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of Lesson One! This is definitely not the most plot-rich lesson in this story (oooooooohhhh boi), but it's probably one of the most important in terms of how it'll effect Jesse later on in his life. But for now...the next lesson awaits.


	5. Lesson Two: t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new beginnings are born in blood.

Later on in his life, if you were to ask Jesse McCree when exactly he turned his act around, when he stopped being an outlaw and started being a hero, he would laugh and tell you that he was born a saint with a cigar in one hand and his gun in the other. Only those who really knew Jesse got to know the actual story.

 

His new life started 40,000 feet in the sky.

 

“You nervous, chico?” The sudden sound of Reyes’ voice almost made Jesse jump out of his seat. He had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and was duly suffering the consequences.

 

“Puh-lease. You should’ve seen some of the rigs I pulled back in my old Deadlock days. This ain’t nothin’, jefe.” Jesse chuckled. The twisting feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he repeated those words to himself.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you and your little rebel boy scout troop had a grand old time robbing little old ladies with airsoft guns.” Reyes snickered. The other three agents in the carrier with them laughed. 

 

“That ain’t all we did.” Jesse scowled. A dark look flashed across the kid’s eyes, and Reyes was worried his anger was back with a vengeance until his face broke into a goofy grin. “We ding dong ditched a couple of times too.” 

 

This caused another round of laughter, and Reyes let out a sigh of relief. So far the mission was off to a good start, and while it was best not to get his hopes up he found himself relaxing. The four agents he selected for this assignment weren’t his best ones (not by a longshot) but they were probably the least hostile and the ones he could personally trust the most. Watson was an ex Airforce pilot who decided retirement was overrated and chose to donate her skills to Blackwatch; Young was some narcotics dealer they picked up outside of Los Angeles who got betrayed by her own ring and was looking for redemption (and vengeance). Fischer’s origins were pretty much a mystery - all they really knew was that he was from Germany and chose Blackwatch over life in prison - but he was good with a gun and that was enough for Reyes.

 

Then, of course, there was McCree. Gabe’s own personal little charity case. 

 

“We’re touching down just outside of Dorado in about fifteen minutes, sir.” Watson’s voice buzzed through the intercom. Reyes could feel the air pressure decrease as the slowly started to descend.

 

“Right on time.” Reyes smiled wolfishly. He glanced over the agents. Johnson and Fischer looked alert and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. McCree looked half asleep. “Okay, listen up. We’re here to investigate a supposed increase in gang activity that’s concentrated around this area. Normally this is something we’d leave alone, but Dorado has some major shipping ports that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. We’ve had problems in this city before with gangs getting their hands on omnic programs, and they were messy. We’d rather nip this one right in the bud.”

 

“Shouldn’ we have brought more gun power then?” Jesse asked.

 

“We’re not going to be barging into the city unannounced with a dozen of fully armed men, chavalo. That’s Overwatch’s job.” Reyes replied. The other three agents chuckled at the jab. “Right now this is classified as an investigation. Snoop around the warehouses and docks, see if anything big is going on. If our source is correct, any potential gang is still small enough for us to wipe out if push comes to shove. Only use violence when provoked; we’re in a highly populated civilian area. I don’t want any bullshit, okay?” 

 

“Sir yes sir.”

 

They split up into teams once they landed. Watson and Young were going to check out the docks while Reyes, Fischer, and McCree looked around the warehouse district. Both areas had an abundance of reports concerning gang activity, making them the best places to start looking. 

 

Something about being in Dorado made Jesse feel uneasy.  It was a beautiful city, especially during the summer. The streets were well lit with colorful lanterns and decorated with hundreds of streamers and pinatas. Everything was familiar to him, but it all seemed fake. He and his mother may have lived in the States but her family was originally from Dorado. Every year the two of them would celebrate the _Festival de La Luz,_ making and hanging up their own red and gold and silver paper lanterns as signs of peace. On the last night of the festival everybody in their neighborhood would gather and they’d release them into the sky, watching them float upwards like stars. It had become especially popular after the Omnic Crisis ended. Jesse could tell that the lanterns and streamers hanging from the houses here were store bought, and the thought saddened him. This is the city where the celebration originated, and it’s own people seemed to have forgotten what it was about.

 

He wasn’t the only one that noticed. “You’d figure that in a city with so many people, at least a  _ couple  _ would know how to make their own lanterns.” Reyes noted bitterly. Jesse grunted in agreement.

 

“Tell me ‘bout it, jefe. When I was little I would be making these things for weeks on end. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to fold those little box shapes.”

 

“Did you guys always throw them into the air the last night of the festival?” 

 

“Throw ‘em? You kiddin’? We may have been poor but we weren’t barbarians. Our neighbor used to own a drugstore, and every year he’d bring out balloons and a big ass tank of helium and we’d tie the lanterns to those.”

 

Reyes’ eyes lit up at the story. “I almost forgot about that part. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to celebrate it. I do remember the little tres leches cakes you’d get to eat afterwards, though.”

 

“Those were my favorite. Every year I would go around bringing the newspaper for everybody months before the festival to help pay for everything. Most of the money went to the lanterns and tamales my momma made-”

 

“You guys made tamales? We always did a pig roast, I think.”

 

Jesse looked up at Reyes in disgust. “Tamales is the way to go, jefe. Anyways, all the parents in our neighborhood would come together and make tamales, right, and the kids were in charge of gettin’ the corn husks. Afterwards we used the extra husks to make these cool little flower headband things - I was never too good at makin’ em, and one of the girls would have to take pity and help me out. Most of the money we saved went to the tamales and lanterns, but sometimes we made enough to buy all the milk needed to make the tres leches cake.”

 

“It isn’t a festival if there’s no cake.” Reyes agreed.

 

“Ain’t a festival if there ain’t no tamales, jefe.” Jesse scoffed. “I can’t even bring myself to believe that y’all did a pig roast _.  _ It’s a damn disgrace.”

 

“Back at my home, we have a similar celebration.” Fischer joined in on the conversation. His voice was deep and gruff, and he had a heavy German accent. If Jesse recalled, the man was only a couple of years older than him. “It is called  _ Heldfest _ , and I remember we used to carve the faces of the founding Overwatch members into apples and our mothers would bake them into strudel. Everybody’s favorite growing up was Reinhardt, of course, and we would fight over who got to carve his apple every year.” 

 

“You’re telling me you would carve my face into an apple and eat it?” Reyes asked.

 

“Of course.” Fischer nodded. “The local high school would always put on a play for the younger kids while somebody grilled up enough sausages to feed an army. When the play was over - I remember the ending was of Reinhardt Wilhelm punching the last enemy omnic in the face - we’d all gather around a huge bonfire and everybody would tell stories and eat until we were sick. They were good times.”

 

“They sound it.” Reyes said. “I haven’t been to the festival in...what is it, at least 16 years now? The last time I went was right before I joined the army.”

 

“I haven’t had one since I was six.” Jesse said softly.

 

Fischer clapped a large hand on his back, nearly sending the kid sprawling to the ground in front of him. “When we return to the base we will make those cakes you talked about. What were they called, ah...tres leches?" Fischer's tongue struggled to pronounce the words. Spanish was a much more fluent language than German, and when he pronounced them they sounded more like "trek leashes". Jesse still gave the big guy an A for effort.  "Yes; we will make those. A birthday celebration, no? All the other  _ arschlochs  _ here never celebrate their birthdays. It saddens me.” 

 

“Well if you’re the one that tries to make the cake, I don’t blame them.” Reyes laughed. “Wasn’t it you that set the cafeteria on fire a few months back trying to make toast?”

 

“A simple mistake, genosse.” 

 

Nobody should have noticed them like that. The three of them blended in with the crowd; talking and laughing like old friends. The weapons they carried were light and easily hid underneath their clothing. The only thing that might have been suspicious was Jesse’s stupid cowboy hat, but even then it wasn’t like other people weren’t dressed up for the festival. Walking down the brightly lit street, all three men looked normal. 

 

That was before the gunshots rang through the air. 

 

Both Jesse and Gabe swore loudly in spanish at the same time. “Shit shit shit! Get in the alley, move!” Gabe hissed. All three men had their weapons at the ready in mere seconds. Gabe reached for his comm, desperately trying to connect to the network.  _ Fuck the UN and their bullshit budget cuts.  _

 

The comm finally connected and Gabe sighed in relief. Jesse and Fischer had already assumed sentry positions, each man looking down the alley way to prepare for a surprise attack. Had Gabe been in a less compromising position, he might have been proud of the little _cabron_ for remembering his training in a time like this. 

 

“Young? Watson? This is Reyes, do you read me?” He barked into the comm.

 

“I read you, boss.” Watson wheezed. The coughs sounded wet and strangled. That wasn’t a good sign.

 

“We heard gunfire up here, was that you two?” Then, after realizing who answered the comm, he hurriedly added, “And where’s Young?” 

 

Another strangled series of coughs came from the comm. These ones sounded even worse. “Young is dead. We were attacked. 7, maybe 10 men at the most. Southern portion of the docks, away from the festival. I am currently huddled behind a set of crates, but I’m right by a ramp leading up to this huge cargo ship. I was shot, I think they might’ve nicked a lung.”

 

Gabe swore under his breath. He bottled up Young’s death and shoved it as far down in the back of his mind as he could. It was something he could deal with later. “We’re on our way. Stay low and keep calm. We’re coming.” He disconnected the comm. It was possible that whoever attacked them tracked them through the damn things. “Head on out.” Gabe commanded.

 

The streets were a mess as they snaked through them, trying to reach the docks as quickly as possible. People were hurrying about everywhere, trying to run from the gunshots and find their loved ones. Children were crying.

 

“Jefe, I think this ally could be a shortcut to the docks.” Jesse spoke up. “If we-”

 

“There’s no time for ‘ifs’, chavalo. Watson is compromised and there are now civilians at risk.” Gabe growled. 

 

Jesse hurriedly looked between his commander and the alley. They were already at least ten minutes from the docks in this mess. They didn’t have any  _ time  _ to go around the warehouse district. If they went through it, though…

 

“Sorry, jefe.” Jesse called out. He began sprinting towards the alley, knowing he’d need a head start to outrun the commander. He may have been a good runner, but being good was no match for being a super soldier.

 

He weaved in and out of the alleys, jumping over barrels and ducking under low hanging balconies. If Gabe and Fischer were following him he couldn’t tell; he was too focused on what was in front of him. Blood rushed to his ears and his breaths came out in short sporadic pants. After a couple of minutes he was worried he got lost; that was before one final lunge over a stack of crates landed him right by the edge of the docks. He could clearly see the large cargo ship Watson had been describing, but he was on the complete opposite end from the ramp. It had to have been a good 300-400 years away. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, but the gunshots firing at his direction made things a bit more difficult.

 

“Shit shit shit.” Jesse muttered, quickly rolling behind one of the crates littering the dock. Just like Watson had said, a group of men had been waiting all around the dock. They had most likely been using Watson as bait; it was a tactic he was familiar with from his Deadlock days and he had  _ still  _ played fool for it. A quick look over the top of the box resulted in at least four shots that were too close for comfort.Jesse was hopelessly outnumbered.

 

Gunshots came from behind him, and Jesse was ready to say his final prayers until he recognized the sound. These gunshots were too loud to be from the handguns the men on the docks were using, and it sounded like multiple were being fired at once. 

 

Once he realized who it was, Jesse  _ really  _ began saying his final prayers.

 

The hulking figured rolled right next to him behind the box, hitting it with a loud thud. “I swear, chavalo, if we get out of here alive you’re going to wish we hadn’t.” Reyes hissed at him. Jesse had never seen the man so angry in his whole nine months of knowing him, and he had made the commander angry a  _ lot _ .

 

“Right on time, jefe.” Jesse let out a half-hearted chuckle but stopped short at the look Reyes shot at him. 

 

Fischer was huddled behind the box a few yards in front of them. “They are all huddled near the waterfront, boss.” The man barked out. “If we stick closer to the left side of the docks, we should be able to get the upper hand.” 

 

Reyes nodded. “Ok.” He shouted to Fischer over the box. Jesse could still hear the relentless pounding of the bullets carving into the crates. “One of us needs to hurry ahead and get to Watson. If she doesn’t receive medical attention soon she isn’t gonna make it.”

 

“I’ll go -” Jesse began.

 

“I will get to her as fast as I can, genosse.” Fischer shouted. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw the large man give a two-fingered salute. “I will see you both in a couple of minutes.” He vaulted quickly over the box, and both Jesse and Reyes lost sight of him.

 

All he could hear were the bullets. They didn’t  _ stop.  _ The sound of them filled his ears, flooding his senses until he couldn’t even hear himself think. He didn’t even notice Reyes yelling at him until the older man shook his shoulders. “Jesse, stay with me.” The commander ordered. “I need you to stay with me now, chico.”

 

Jesse stared blankly at the commander. Bullets were over their heads. God, how did they have this much ammo? “Jefe, I can’t-”

“Just breathe, kid.” Reyes said softly. “In for three. Hold for one. Out for five. In for three. Hold for one. Out for five.”

 

Jesse followed his directions, trying his best to get his breaths even and his heart to stop pounding. After a couple of cycles the sound of the bullets didn’t overwhelm him anymore. If he really strained, he could even hear the roar of the ocean as it beat against the wooden piers. “Okay.” He breathed.

 

“You okay?” Reyes asked. Jesse nodded shakily. “Good. The reason they have so many bullets is because they have a machine gun. He’s too far away for me to take him out, but I’ve seen you take down guys twice the distance he’s at. I’m going to cover you, okay?” Jesse nodded again and Reyes took his hand off of the kid’s shoulder. “On my count, chico. Uno...dos...tres...go go go!”

 

Jesse hesitantly stood up, still somewhat hunched behind the crate but also able to see the men attacking him. Roughly 200 yards stood a huge pickup truck. The bed of the truck was open, and in a man was wildly shooting a machine gun in their general direction. Jesse prayed desperately for his deadeye to activate, but apparently this situation wasn’t dangerous enough to justify it. The machine gun ran out of ammo, and Jesse rose completely. His left hand rose, bringing Peacekeeper at level with the man in the truck bed while the six shooter in his right hand took care of a couple of men that were closer to him. The truck was just so  _ far away.  _ He’d never make it.

 

_ In for three. Hold for one. Out for five. _

 

Jesse pulled back the hammer. The cylinder rotated counter clockwise, lining up a new bullet with the barrel of the gun. 

 

_ In for three. Hold for one. Out for five.  _

 

The man was almost done reloading the machine gun. Jesse heard Reyes fire his shotguns, and saw two more men fall out of the corner of his eye. Another shot from the revolver in his right hand brought another one to the ground.

 

_ In for three. Hold for one. Out for five.  _

 

The man gunning the machine gun raised it up again, reader to renew his slaughter. 

 

_ “Always shoot to kill, Jesse.” _

 

His finger jerked back the trigger, and the man crumpled to the ground. The world went silent.

 

“Good shot, chico.” Reyes sighed in relief. “That was the last of them. Let’s head on over to Watson and Fischer.” Jesse nodded wordlessly and they both began to slowly make their way to the other end of the pier, keeping an eye out for any sleeping agents. The water that lapped up against the docks was tinted red. 

 

Reyes pulled out his comm and activated the channel again. “Fischer, it appears all hostiles have been eliminated. We are making our way over towards you and Watson. What’s her status?”

 

The comm was silent for a moment before a weak reply came from the other end. “This is Watson. I’m still kicking, but I’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m trying to keep my breathing steady but I need medical attention ASAP.” 

 

Reyes furrowed his brows together, shooting a worried glance towards Jesse. A feeling of dread nestled deep in the pit of the cowboy’s stomach. “We’re on our way. Where’s Fischer?”

 

“Fischer was with you guys.” Watson’s voice sounded confused. There was a long pause. “...if he was supposed to meet me, he never did.” 

 

Jesse and Reyes both started running at the same time. The kid starting darting in between boxes, looking in every nook and cranny possible while Reyes pulled himself to the top of the crates to get an aerial view. They must have only looked for a minute or so. Two minutes tops.

 

It was Jesse who found the body.

 

“Oh, dios mio.” His throat got caught in his chest at the sight before him. Fischer’s bulky form was crumpled behind a box, probably no more than a dozen or saw yards away from the end of the pier where Watson must be hiding. His chest was riddled with bullets from the machine gun; the bloody handprints on the top and edges of the crate showed he had been trying to get over it. His gun was by his side, completely empty. Two dead gang members lay only a couple of feet away. Fischer hadn't gone done without a fight.

 

Jesse had been too late in taking out the machine gun.

 

“Reyes...he’s over here.” His voice cracked as he called out the words. It was so odd seeing the giant man’s form so... _ lifeless.  _ Just a half hour ago he had been joking around with the other two as they walked the streets of the festival.

 

_ “When we return to base, we will make those cakes you talked about.”  _ The words filled his head. _ “When we return to base. When we return to base. Whenwereturntobasewhenwereturntobasewhenwereturnto-” _

 

“Jesse.” Once again Reyes’ voice snapped him back to reality. The commander’s eyes were hard and glossy; he refused to looked down at Fischer. “We need to bring Watson back.”

 

“We can’t just leave him here.” Jesse choked.

 

“Jesse, we have to help Watson.” Gabe tried to sound commanding, but it came out as more of a whine. Gabe wasn't telling; he was pleading.

 

“I’m not just going to-”

 

“Watson’s going to die too if we don’t get to her, McCree!” Reyes snapped. The same fury from before shone in them. The commander turned around without another word and set off toward the end of the dock. Jesse watched him walk away, and then turned to look down at Fischer’s body. His skin had turned pale and gray, and a face screwed up in pain revealed just how agonizing his last moments must have been. It was nearly impossible to imagine him as the smiling giant of a man from just a half hour before. Looking over the sight in front of him, Jesse silently sent up a prayer, kissing the tips of his finger tips before using them to shut Fischer’s lifeless blue eyes. Without another word, Jesse got up and began to follow Gabe towards the end of the dock. Towards Watson. 

 

He didn’t look back.


	6. Lesson Two: tr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning, there will be strong language use and a couple of slurs in this chapter.

The first night Gabe saw Jesse out on the balcony, they didn’t talk. Plenty of Blackwatch members went out there for a smoke break every now and then to clear their heads. It was probably as close to a sanctuary as one could get at the Grand Mesa Watchpoint. The balcony overlooked the mountains and canyons in all of their natural glory - one of the few places left on Earth completely untouched by mankind. At night it got so dark you could see stars from galaxies and universes light years away. Everybody in Blackwatch deserved their peace, so Gabe just stood beside the kid silently, the dying ends of their cigarette buds vaguely illuminating their faces with a soft orange glow.

 

When Jesse was out there a second night in a row, Gabe was surprised. As far as he knew, he was the only one who frequented The Balcony night after night. It was just how things were. Now just the slightest bit curious, Gabe decided that two nights of silence would be too awkward. “You know smoking is bad for you, right?” He grunted, lighting the end of his own cigarette and taking a long drag. It was so dark out that he almost couldn’t see the smoke floating in front of his face.

 

“Really? I never knew.” Jesse bit back. Gabe chuckled.

 

“Where’d you even get those, anyway? I know you’re not stealing from anybody.”

 

“I bought them from commissary myself. I am 18, you know.”

 

Gabe turned to face the kid, elbow still leaning on the edge of The Balcony. “Where’d you get the money?” One of the tactics used to keep people in Blackwatch was a lack of salary. You were given food, shelter, and supplies. That was it. The only way to make extra cash (and very little, at that) was to sign up for housekeeping duties.

 

Jesse smiled, and Gabe couldn’t tell if the twinkle in the kid’s eyes was from the cigarette buds or something else. “I won some off of Niles in a game of Blackjack.”

 

Gabe frowned. “It isn’t too wise to go around ripping off your team, chavalo.” He scolded. Still, a part of him was kinda sorta proud of the kid - from what he heard Niles was one of the best gamblers in Blackwatch. Of course in their lot that most likely meant he was simply the best at cheating, but it still wasn’t an easy feat to beat him.

 

“I won fair and square. ‘Sides, it was only twenty bucks. Nothin’ to get in a hussy over.” Jesse took a long drag and blew rings through the smoke. Gabe tried not to roll his eyes.

 

“Shouldn’t you be spending your time training instead of pissing everybody off?” He sighed.

 

Jesse snorted and dismissively waved his hand. “I already made Blackwatch, what do I got to train for?”

 

“How about staying alive?”

 

Jesse stayed silent after that. “Well, what am I supposed to train on? I’m already the best damn shot in all of Blackwatch, and probably Overwatch too. You said so yourself.”

 

A certain Egyptian sniper came to mind, and Gabe smiled to himself. “Maybe Blackwatch, but I know somebody in Overwatch who definitely tops you.”

 

The kid choked on the smoke filling his lungs. “Wha-what? No way.”

 

Gabe nodded, smiling wider now through the cigarette in his mouth. “Yes way. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to meet her someday and she’ll show you a few tricks, but as of right now she’s still numero uno, amigo.”

 

Jesse thought for a moment. “I guess there’s always room for improvement.” He decided.

Gabe laughed, and the two continued to sit in the smoke in silence.

 

~~~

 

“Your right hand is always a little bit off.” Gabe noted. Jesse scowled in response. “Hey, you’re the one that wanted my help in training chico.”

 

“Yeah, _help_. All you’ve been doin’ the best half hour is drawing dumb faces on the targets and makin’ fun of me.”

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you suck at aiming with your right hand.” Gabe pointed out.

 

“You see? That right there is negativity. I do _not_ suck at aiming with my right hand.” Jesse pouted. “It just ain’t as good, that’s all. And training like this is _boring,_ jefe. Can’t ya think of anything funner with that big head of yours?” The remark got him a whack on his own head that he wasn’t able to dodge in time. Still, Gabe stared at the targets in deep thought.

 

“Yeah, I think I have an idea, actually.” He finally said.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You’ll like it.”

 

“Last time you said that was durin’ trainin’ and I had to - woah!”

 

Reyes threw something at Jesse, and he shot at it out of pure instinct. It exploded midair as the bullet hit it’s mark directly in the center.

 

“Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me, jefe?” Jesse yelled.

 

“Now that I know you can do that with your left hand, you’re only allowed to use your right from now on.”

 

“Excuse me, but what?”

 

“From now on, everytime I yell ‘shoot’ I’m going to throw something at you. You need to shoot it, but you have to use your right hand.”

 

Jesse glared at Reyes. “And what exactly do I get out of this?” He drawled.

 

“Well, for one, if you don’t hit whatever I’m throwing it’s more than likely going to hit your face. Two, if you aim is at least _comparable_ to your left hand by the end two months, you’ll never have to pay for another pack of cigarettes for the rest of your life.” Reyes held out his hand. “Deal, ingrate?”

 

Jesse narrowed his eyes, but his lips raised in a small smile. He clasped Reyes’ hand with his, accepting the challenge. “You’re on, jefe.”

 

~~~

 

From that point on, Jesse was never safe. He learned very quickly on that he would have to watch his back at _all times._ This included when he was sleeping, as he discovered after a particularly embarrassing incident. At any moment Reyes would pop out of nowhere, scream “Shoot!” and Jesse would try not to embarrass him. At first he did just that; the first couple of tries resulted in the bullets merely skimming whatever object Reyes decided to throw at him and he would still get the brunt of the impact. After a while, though, he started to get better.

 

“Shoot!” Reyes yelled. McCree was lounging on the couch in the rec room, and actually tipped the piece of furniture over with a high pitched screech as he tried to avoid the attack. This resulted in laughs from nearly every other person occupying the space, excluding McCree himself. “Better luck next time, pendejo.” Reyes called in a sing song voice. Jesse flipped him the commander off behind his back.

 

“Shoot!” The attack had come out of the blue, and they were still so early on in the exercise that Jesse hadn’t developed the sense to always watch his back. This time he was sparring with one of the other agents, and Reyes showed up just as McCree was pinned by his much more experienced opponent. Although he was able to rolled off to the side and escape from the hold (which was impressive in and of itself) he was unable to draw his gun quickly enough and received a water balloon to the face, properly drenching him. Reyes had found his new favorite weapon.

 

“Shoot!” Jesse was always looking over his shoulder now, and the gun was in his right hand practically before the word had even finished leaving Reyes’ lips. Fortunately McCree managed to nick the edge of the balloon and it exploded; unfortunately he was too slow and still in the impact zone. “God dammit!” He yelled. Reyes ran away, laughing like a schoolboy as McCree went to chase after him only to slip all across the floor, resulting in him face planting into the wall. Kane caught the whole ordeal on video, and was able to add a picture of it in the rec room.

 

“Shoot!” He was ready for it, this time. Jesse was eating breakfast with a couple other members - it was late morning, so most agents had already eaten, but Jesse would be damned if he ever got up past 10 - when he spotted Reyes sneaking through the door with something in his hand. The other agents at his table - Watson, Kane, and Donovan - had already ducked for cover. Everybody knew about McCree’s training exercise at this point. The photo board in the rec room was covered in his previously failed attempts, and McCree was determined _not_ to make this one of them. He hadn’t missed a balloon in nearly a week now, but there was only another week to go til the deadline was up and Jesse didn’t want to lose. He reached for the revolver he had come to favor with his right hand only to discover he left his holster back in the room.

 

“Shit!” McCree shouted. Kane had her phone at the ready, primed to capture the exact moment the water balloon would hit Jesse’s face. Reyes sprinted towards Jesse, arm winded back with the balloon in hand and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. A glint of silver flashed in front of him and Jessie grabbed the butter knife off of the table, experiencing a violent wave of deja vu. As soon as Reyes released the balloon Jesse sent the knife flying, praying to whatever god was out there that he didn’t make himself look dumb by missing.

 

Clearly something was looking out for him that day, because the knife came into contact with the balloon halfway in between him and Reyes and it fell to the ground with a loud _pop!_ Jesse smiled, lazily saluting the commander like throwing unweighted knives with your non-dominant hand was the easiest thing in the world.

 

It was mid autumn by the time McCree and Reyes finished their little exercise. However, the day Reyes planned to test McCree the commander was nowhere to be found. Jesse went around the base all day until dusk, asking anybody who would listen just where the hell Gabe was. Everybody seemed busy for some reason, carrying boxes to and from the rec room and cafeteria, and he was almost always met with choruses of either “I dunno” or “Fuck off, McCree”.

 

“Hey, Watson, have you seen Reyes?” McCree asked. He had seen the short woman for the first time that day walking down the hallway.

 

She turned around. “No, but I know where he is.”

 

“And where do you reckon that’d be?”

 

Watson bit her lip, her already lined forehead crease with worry. “I dunno, Jesse. Today means a lot to him. He likes to be alone.”

 

Now Jesse was the one furrowing his eyebrows. “Now what the hell are you going on about?”

 

Watson tapped her foot. “It’s Halloween. Ever since I’ve been here Gabe’s locked himself up on The Balcony. Nobody knows what he does, but we also don’t dare disturb him. I really wouldn’t recommend it, Jesse.”

 

Jesse dismissively waved his hand as he began his walk toward The Balcony. Although he didn’t visit everyday like Gabe did, he frequented the place often and figured Reyes had just locked himself out there for some peace and quiet while everybody was celebrating. Jesse couldn’t believe he had forgotten it was _Halloween_ \- now he understood why nobody had wanted to talk to him. They must’ve been preparing the base for a party tonight.

 

Surprisingly, the sliding door that led out to The Balcony was unlocked. Jesse opened it quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever Reyes was doing just quite yet. The area wasn’t nearly as dark as it usually was when he stepped outside. In fact, a bunch of candles were carefully placed around the whole area, making everything smell like cinnamon and honey. At the far edge of the balcony, to Jesse’s surprise, stood Reyes. The commander was kneeling on the ground, hands folded in front of him and head lowered towards the ground. Jesse carefully padded over to Gabe, silently thankful that he hadn’t worn his cowboy boots, and knelt down beside him. Now Jesse understood why today was so important to Gabe.

 

“Dia de los Muertos isn’t till tomorrow, you know.” Jesse said softly. If Gabe was surprised by his presence, he certainly didn’t show it. He didn’t even look up from the ground.

 

“I know. I celebrate it the night before, while everybody throws the Halloween party. That way it’s quieter.” He replied. After a quick pause he softly added, “I always thought it was meant to be a quiet holiday.”

 

Jesse nodded in agreement. There was no altar in front of Reyes, but rather a small collage of pictures. Almost all of them contained a kind looking older couple that Jesse knew must be Reyes’ parents, but a few also had a young girl with golden eyes and dark hair that he couldn’t identify.

 

“Who do you celebrate for, jefe?”

 

Gabe stared into my candlelight. “My family. Who else? A mom. A dad. A sister.” The words seem to catch in his throat at the mention of a sister, and Jesse made a quick mental note to _never_ bring up the topic himself. “What about you?”

 

“Just my mom.” Jesse said. “She was always into this holiday shit. I was too young to appreciate it then, and I haven’t had time to appreciate it now.”

 

Reyes chuckled deeply. “You know, believe it or not, this was actually the only Spanish holiday my family ever really celebrated.” Reyes said. Seeing the confused look plastered on Jesse’s face, he decided to continue. “I’m a first generation American, right? My parents moved up here after they got married and found out my mother was pregnant. Wanted me to have a good life, you know? An American one. I couldn’t even speak Spanish with them until I took classes in high school. They didn’t teach me when I was young because they didn’t want me to have their accent. I loved my parents - God, I still do - but I really wish they hadn’t felt the need to turn away from their culture to give me a better life.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.” Jesse softly. “It was their choice. They did it for you, not because of you. There’s a difference.”

 

Reyes raised his head a little. “I know.” They sat in a thick silence together until Gabe cleared his throat. “What about you? You said you were only celebrating your mother, but I thought you mentioned knowing your father.”

 

Something dark flashed through Jesse’s eyes. It reminded Gabriel of the wildfire he first saw in the boy that day in the interrogation room. It seemed so long ago...so much longer than just 11 months. “He ain’t worth celebratin’.” Jesse spat.

 

Gabe debated on the words that fought to leave his tongue. “How come?”

 

Jesse looked Gabe in the eyes for the first time since they started talking. “It’s a long story.” He sighed. “The story of how I got Peacekeeper.”

 

_The shoes of the wild-haired boy seemed to be kicking up as much dust as possible on his way home. He was small and skinny for his age, and his spotty red sweatshirt hung off of his narrow frame. A small yellow backpack with the initials JIM dotting the back of it. The child started running as soon as a small yellow house with a spanish tiled roof and neat (yet small) lawn came into view._

 

 _“Mama! Mama, I’m home!” He called out, childish voice shrieking with glee. His mother was in the kitchen, stirring over a pot for that night’s dinner. It seemed awful large to feed just him and his mama, but sometimes they invited people over._ _Jesse liked it when Mama's friends came over. A lot of them would tell him stories and sneak him pieces of candy while his mother pretended not to notice._

 

_“Jesse, my little vaquero! How was your day, mijo?” She scooped the boy into a big hug as soon as he set his backpack down._

 

_“It was good, mama.” The boy answered excitedly. She set him down and lovingly patted his wild head of chocolate brown hair, trying her best to tame it. “We got to play kickball today during recess ‘cuz it’s Friday!”_

 

_“That’s great, mijo.” Mama smiled. Jesse, like every little boy, was sure that his mama was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had light brown eyes that shone like honey, and her hair was such a fair shade of brown it almost looked blonde._

 

_“How come you’re making so much food, mama?” Jesse asked, hopping up and down near the edge of the stove in hopes of seeing what was simmering in what had to have been the largest cooking pot his mother owned._

 

_Jesse was too young to notice the flash of worry across his face. Too young to question it and what exactly it meant. The worry was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his mother’s eyes. “Mama is having some friends over tonight, mijo. They are expecting plenty of food.”_

 

_“Well, what are we eatin?” Jesse asked. He had long given up on trying to examine the contents of the pot and was now sitting on a chair by the dining table, short little legs not even close to reaching the ground. He busied himself with taking everything out of his backpack. Having just started first grade a couple months ago meant Jesse didn’t have any homework, but that didn’t stop him from pretending. He was a smart boy - the teachers always said so. “Such a bright young boy.” They smiled with pride as his mother attended a teacher conference. “Always eager to learn, and even more eager to help his classmates no matter the problem.” His mama had been especially proud after the conference, and after dinner that night she made him his favorite tres leches cake._

 

_“Actually, mijo, you’re going to go over Nina’s house tonight. Mama’s having a lot of friends over, and I don’t want you to get scared.”_

 

_“I won’t get scared, mama!” Jesse pouted._

 

_“I know, my brave little vaquero. But it just makes me feel better. Besides, you love spending the night at Nina’s.” His mother smiled. Had Jesse been older and more observant, he would have noticed the nervousness that threatened to break through his mother’s air of reassurance._

 

_Instead he just pouted and stared at a drawing of a horse he drew during art that day. Mama was right; Jesse did love going over to Nina’s. She was a nice old lady that smelled like lemon cakes who lived just down the road. She always gave Jesse puerquitos cookies and empanadas filled with apples and cherries even though his mama said he shouldn’t be eating too many sweets. She always smiled when she said that, though, so she probably wasn’t serious. Nina even let him stay up past his bedtime, and if she wasn’t too tired they would watch old cowboy movies together._

 

_That’s why Jesse was happy once more when he was all packed and ready to head over to Nina’s. He and his mother made the journey in less than two minutes. Nina did live on the same street after all._

 

_“Ah, Jesse! It’s so good to see you, nieto!” Nina greeted them, her silvery white hair up in the same loose bun it always was and her sweater smelling like lemon cake. “Don’t worry, Adela. He is in good hands.” She winked at his mother through crinkled eyes._

 

_Jesse’s mother crouched down so that she could be at eye level with him. This time Jesse was able to notice the sadness in his eyes, and it confused him. He was only going to be staying with Nina for a night. Why was she upset?_

 

_“You be a good boy now, okay mijo?” She whispered softly. Tears seemed to flood her eyes, but none dripped down her cheeks. “No matter what, promise me you’ll be good.”_

 

_“Of course, mama.” Jesse laughed. Why wouldn’t he be?_

 

_“Okay.” His motherly smiled sadly. She looked much older than her years when she frowned like that. Jesse didn’t like it. “I love you mijo. Always remember that.”_

 

_“I love you too, mama!” Jesse smiled. His mother smiled back at his enthusiasm._

 

_“Be good, Jesse. Be brave. I’ll see you soon.” She pulled him closer to her body in a tight hug. “I love you, mi pequéno vaquero.” She whispered into his ear. Without another she stood up, thanked Nina, and walked down the street. Nina hurriedly closed the door, rushing Jesse to the kitchen with promises of cookies if he helped her make them._

 

_Jesse’s mother lied to him that day. He would never see her again._

 

_Late that night - far past Jesse’s bedtime, even at Nina’s house - a tall, burly man that smelled like alcohol woke Jesse up and took him from Nina’s house. He screamed and screamed, but that didn’t stop the tall man from throwing Jesse in the back of his car along with what he had brought to Nina’s in a small bag. As they drove away he could see other tall men throwing glowing bottles at Nina’s house. He heard a loud bang, but they rounded the bend at the end of the road before he saw what happened._

 

_“My name’s Victor McCree.” The man barked from the driver’s seat. “I’m takin’ you back to where you belong.” The tall man was Jesse’s father._

 

_As Jesse grew older, one of the things he hated most about himself was how much he looked like his father. If you put age aside, they two men were practically identical. Every time Jesse looked in a mirror he wished he could trade his chocolate brown eyes for honey ones; his thick dark hair for hair so light and soft it almost looked blonde; his strong jaw and thick brows for a soft jaw and delicate ones. His physical self bore no resemblance to his mother. He hated his father, and being his twin made Jesse start to hate himself, too. When he was younger he had prayed every night that his father would just abandon him on the side of some road to die. That may have been his fate, if the crew hadn’t discovered what a good shot Jesse was when he was just 11 years old._

 

_“Well lookee here, Vic! Looks like this boy of yours can shoot!” One of the men - Jesse didn’t know his name, didn’t bother learning it - called out._

 

_Victor nodded gruffly, a wolfish smile plastered on his face. Jesse hated that smile. It meant his father was about to do something mean. “Anybody can hit a bottle though, Hank. Even dumb ass little kids.” His father sneered. The insults didn’t bother Jesse. They stopped being insults long ago. His father calling him an idiot was as common as other fathers saying I love you, but with none of the warmth._

 

_“Yeah, I suppose so.” Hank smiled the same smile as his dad. “Maybe we should test it on somethin’ harder.”_

 

_“Somethin’ movin.” Victor laughed gleefully. He surveyed the area quickly before grabbing at Jesse’s arm, pulling him harshly to his side. Dark brown eyes exactly like Jesse’s bore into his own. “You see that rabbit over there on the side of the road? I want you to hit it.”_

 

_Jesse let out a pained noise. This was new. His father may have been awful, but never had he ever asked Jesse to kill anything before. “N-no!” He cried._

 

_Victor sneered. “If you don’t shoot that rabbit and hit it, I’m going to beat your ass to hell and back. No dinner for a weak, neither.”_

 

_Jesse didn’t hesitate. “I won’t do it.” He snapped. To believe this had started out with wanting to play with his father’s revolver - how was it his father managed to ruin everything?_

 

_Victor snarled. “What about that little butcher’s boy you’ve been visiting in town, huh?” He smiled viciously at the fear on Jesse’s face. “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know about him you little faggot. Either you shoot that rabbit or I’ll pay him a visit instead.”_

 

_“He’s my friend.” Jesse choked._

 

_“Exactly.” His father growled. As evil and conniving as Jesse’s father was, he was equally as smart. Victor was able to outsmart and manipulate people with his eyes closed, a trait he was trying to pass on to Jesse in some fucked up way. “Now shoot, little boy.” The man whispered in his ear. The boy could smell the alcohol that seemed to dominate his father’s presence._

 

_Jesse choked back a sob, tears already running down his face. He could easily see the bunny sitting across the road from where he was. It didn’t look like a wild bunny - it’s fur was long and glossy and it’s ears were floppy - and Jessie had to choke back another sob at the thought that this may be somebody’s pet. He lined up the sight of the old six shooter with the bunny’s body, praying he would miss it just as much as he was praying he would hit it. His left hand shook as he pulled the hammer down and let out shallow, shaky breathes. That was another thing he hated - he got his left handedness from his father, too. He held the gun like that for a moment, staring down the bunny that was innocently munching on some dandelions at the edge of the road._

 

_“Remember,” his father breathed into his face. “Always shoot to kill, Jesse.”_

 

_Jesse pulled the trigger with a sob. The rabbit went down, and Jesse went with it. Tears streamed down his face as his father and the other men in his crew laughed and clapped._

 

_“Rabbit stew tonight, boys!” Victor whooped. Jesse didn’t eat dinner that night. Days later, Jesse discovered that his father paid a visit to Liam the butcher’s boy and beat him to oblivion, anyway. Jesse wanted to visit him in the hospital one last time before they left, but of course his father wouldn’t allow it. That was only the first of many, many times Jesse thought about killing his father._

 

_The final straw came when Jesse was 15 years old. It was just him and Victor, now - the rest of the crew either dead or captured. The thought should have been a relief to Jesse, but in all honesty he missed the company even if it had been shitty. He hated being lonely, and his father wasn’t exactly one for conversing._

 

_Victor had been drunk that night, Jesse could remember that much. Drunker than Jesse had ever seen him before. Later on, when Jesse was much older, he would realize that that particular night was the anniversary of his mother’s death. In between the usual drunken slurs, Victor said something that made Jesse snap up from the book he was reading. It was an old book called "The Odyssey", and a librarian from a couple of years ago had given it to Jesse as a parting gift. It was his favorite book._

 

_“What did you just say?” The boy asked. His tone was deadly calm. It was hard for a 15 year old to be intimidating, nevermind sound it, but Jesse was managing._

 

_“I said,” His father drunkenly giggled. “...you should’ve seen your mama’s face when we showed up at the door. Wasn’t even surprised none, like she was expectin’ us. Stupid bitch even made us dinner, like we would ever eat anythin’ she put her filthy mitts on.”_

 

_“Don’t talk about her like that.” Jesse seethed. He had stood up, books long forgotten, his fists clenched so hard he could feel the nails breaking into his skin._

 

_Victor ignored him. “Told her I was there to pick you up; you’s was mine, after all, always had been and always will be, and she ain’t have no right takin’ you. That little bitch had the nerve to lie right to my fuckin’ face, you know that? She said she didn’t know where you were! Wouldn’t even admit it after a couple of kicks to that pretty little face of hers. She always was a stubborn one. Dumb as a doornail, but damn she was stubborn.” Victor chuckled._

 

_“Shut up!” Jesse yelled. He slowly inched towards his father, every wiry muscle in his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. Wildfire bled into his eyes. “Shut your damn mouth!”_

 

_Victor still continued to talk. “We knew she was lying, one of the boys had come by earlier that day and saw her takin’ you to that old bitch’s house. Well, I don’t take kindly to bein’ lied to, boy, so I took this here gun,” his father gestured wildly at the ornate six shooter he always kept on his person, “and I shot her right in the pretty little skull of hers. Then I went, picked you up, and set fire to the old crone’s house while she was still in it just for good measure. Your mother always was nothing but a good for nothin' slu-”_

 

_Jesse gave no warning. He lunged towards his father, sending him to the ground with a clumsy punch to the jaw. His father howled and tried to get up, but Jesse grabbed the bottle he had been drinking and slammed it as hard as he could on the man’s head, sending shards of bloodied glass everywhere. After that Jesse knelt over his father and punched and punched and pucnhed until his fists were numb and his vision was clear again. To his surprise he found he was sobbing._

 

 _Victor was still conscious, and instead of acknowledging the pain he must be feeling, the man_ laughed. _“Always knew you had that killer blood in ya, boy.” His father coughed. He turned his head to the side and spat out a tooth. The face that looked so much like Jesse’s own was now covered in sickly green bruises and bloodied gashes. “Thought your whore of a mother might’ve turned you into a right wimp, but it looks like you’ve got some of your ole' pa in you after all.”_

 

_Jesse’s vision turned red again but he refused to deliver another blow. Instead he grabbed the gun that had fallen from his father’s holster and held it in his own hand. His father leaned up against the wall with a pained grunt, legs still sprawled out on the ground. “You ain’t my pa, and I ain’t nothin’ like you.” Jesse snarled. Victor only laughed again._

 

_“What’re you gonna do with that gun, huh boy? You couldn’t even kill a fuckin’ bunny with that thing, you little pussy.” His father spat. Jesse stared at the gun. The words ‘Creador la Paz” were inscribed on the side. He could only imagine who his father stole this from._

 

_“You don’t deserve this gun.” Jessie spat._

 

_“Oh, what, and you do?” His father coughed again. This time blood spilled onto the ground, and he let out a pained groan. “You may be just a kid, but you’re as bad as me. You’ll see it someday. Now that you’ve got a taste for blood, you won’t be able to stop yourself.” Victor smiled through bloodied and broken teeth._

 

_Jesse clutched the gun in his hand. “I ain’t like you.” Jessie growled._

 

_“Course you aren’t, boy.” His father spat a wad of blood onto the ground. He looked at the gun in Jesse’s hand. “Go ahead, then. Shoot me. Kill me like that goddamned rabbit.” He snarled._

 

_With a low growl, Jesse fired the gun rapidly without even thinking. When the smoke of clear his father was still alive, but two bullets were now lodged in either leg and another two in either arm. His father hadn’t even screamed at the pain, and let out another hysterical laugh. “Looks like you missed, boy!” His father roared. The laughter quickly turned to choked coughing, and he hacked up another bloody wad of spit after a couple of seconds._

 

_“No I didn’t.” Jesse replied calmly. He went about the room in the ransacked old hut they were spending the night in, pocketing his father’s gun and wallet as he placed his hat on his head. His mother had given him the oversized hat when he was a boy, saying he would grown into it when he was older. He had._

 

_The smile was wiped from Victor’s face as the reality of the situation dawned on him. He was stuck in a shed in the middle of the New Mexican desert with no help around for miles and no way to move. “Jesse.” His father called. There was a hint of panic in  his voice. Jesse only finished shoving his clothes in a dirty rucksack. “Jesse, you come back here boy!” His father was yelling now, hysteria flooding his voice like an overturned dam. Jesse ignored him, walking towards the door and nudging it open with the toe of his boot as he adjusted the hat sitting atop his head. The weight of Peacekeeper was reassuring in his pocket. “Jesse! Come back here right now and finish me off like a man! Finish me off, boy! Do it!” Victor screamed._

 

_Jesse never looked back, and his father’s screams followed him long into the night._

 

Gabe didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He just stared into the dwindling candle flame. The muffled noise from the Halloween party inside had long since died out.

“Afterwards Deadlock took me in. Turns out my father owed them some money - no surprise there, really - and they decided my sharpshootin’ would be payment enough. Spent a little over two years with them before you picked me up.” Jesse’s voice was practically a whisper, and a little hoarse from having been talking so long.

 

“I don’t know what to say, chico.” Gabe replied. Jesse was only a kid, just 18 years old, and he had already seen and done so many awful things in his life. Gabe’s heart twisted into knots. He didn’t feel sorry for the boy, not exactly. He grieved for the life Jesse could’ve made for himself if only fate had been kinder.

 

“I do.” Jesse sighed. “You have no idea how happy I am you guys saved me, jefe.” In the dim candlelight, Jesse thought he could see the curve of a smile dancing across Gabe’s face.

 

A year later, when Halloween and Dia de los Muertos came around once more, Gabe no longer had to celebrate alone. Instead there was a lanky 19 year old cowboy wannabe by his side, and a worn picture of a woman with honey colored eyes joined his family in the afterlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooOOOOO that was a doozy. a LOT went on in that chapter. I type these things up in a word doc and it took up nearly 12 whole pages, so here's the longest chapter to date everybody lmao. Sorry if it's too much, but I hope y'all like it because I really enjoyed writing it and I just want to give Jesse a hug :(
> 
> PS: sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, it's 2:30 in the morning and I have midterms tomorrow.


	7. Lesson Two: trus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is a time
> 
> and a place
> 
> for everything

Although life was certainly unpredictable, Jesse began to settle into a routine of sorts. Wake up, go on a run with Gabe (“Does it look like I give a damn if you’re not a supersoldier, chavalo? If I say we’re doing 10 miles today, we’re doing 10 miles.”), eat an outrageous amount of breakfast food, and then spend the rest of the day training on his sharpshooting and fighting skills.. The days bled into weeks, and then months, and then eventually years had passed. If you asked anybody about Agent McCree, they would still refer to him as “the kid”, but it was no longer with a mocking tone. Somehow, at the ripe old age of 24 years old, Jesse had managed to shape himself into one of the best agents Blackwatch had to offer, and that earned an amount of respect from the others. Life was good. Life was _normal._

 

Then, of course, everything seemed to fall apart.

 

Jesse had been on more missions than he could count, and of all different varieties. Investigations, undercover ops, honeypots; being one of Blackwatch’s best agents (and really the only one Gabe could trust anymore, seeing how Watson retired for good a year earlier) meant that he spent just as much time in the field as he did at home. Sure, there were missions that went bad, but Jesse was infamous for his resourcefulness, and he almost never came back empty handed.

Naturally, it was only a matter of time before something catastrophic happened. Jesse’s luck had run out.

 

Like every significant event in Jesse’s life, this one started 40,000 feet in the air heading towards some foreign country he forgot the name of Somewhere near Russia, maybe. All those damn European countries were too similar to keep track of. All Jesse could remember was that it was a nearly 12 hour flight, and they still had another 3 hours to go before landing. He wasn’t claustrophobic by any means, but you could only take so much time in a flying metal box before it starts going to your head. Reyes’ music certainly wasn’t helping his headache, either.

 

“What the hell are you listenin’ to, jefe?” Jesse groaned. The other couple of agents on the plane were still sleeping. Lucky bastards.

 

“It’s an old band.” Gabe replied, scrolling through the emails on his phone. Jesse almost groaned at the sight. He knew all the higher ups in Overwatch were old as shit, but did they still have to use _email?_

 

“That don’t answer my question.”

 

“You wouldn’t know who they were, anyway. Before your time and not your taste.”

 

Jesse pouted for a moment, glaring at his commanding officer. Then, out of either boredom or defiance (or both, more likely) he snatched the phone out of Gabe’s hands. He immediately scampered to the other side of the jet, correctly predicting and narrowly avoiding the punch aimed at his face.

 

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing chavalo?” Gabe shouted angrily. He darted over to the other side and attempted to grab the phone out of Jesse’s hand, but he held it far above his head and the kid was taller with those damned cowboy boots on.

 

“Three Days Grace? Weren’t they that emo band from like, a hundred years ago?” Jesse asked.

 

“First of all, they are _not_ emo.” Gabe snapped. He jumped up and snatched the phone from Jesse’s grip. “And second of all, they’re not that old.”

 

“I should’ve known you’d listen to all that edgy crap.”

 

“At least I don’t listen to Tim McGraw.” Gabe snapped.

 

“Don’t you fuckin’ DARE make fun of Tim McGraw.” Jesse bit back.

 

A couple of minutes later, the other agents woke up to their commanding officer and the cowboy kid yelling about country music and emos. Both men had to be physically separated when Jesse pulled out Peacekeeper with his left hand and Gabe pulled out one of his shotguns. Surprisingly, that was not the most exciting thing to happen that day.

 

Not by a longshot.

 

Both Jesse and Gabe were stationed up on a building, wrapped in as many furs and coats as possible to stave off the bitter Russian cold. Beneath them was a large plaza, filled to the brim with people getting ready to listen the their new president’s first speech. Not a single one of those people knew Jesse and Gabe were there to protect them in case things went awry. It was the biggest project Jesse had ever undertook in Blackwatch, and the team assembled was so large it had to be split in two.

 

“Don’t the Russians have their own secret service pricks they can set up to do jobs like this?” Jesse’s teeth were chattering so hard it was difficult to make out exactly what he was saying. Gabe wasn’t faring any better. Neither man was built for the cold, and despite their layers they were feeling the effects of it. Jesse lost all feeling in his fingers nearly ten minutes ago, and he was sure Gabe was experiencing the same thing.

 

“This is a complicated op. It’s an added bonus that an organization that’s technically not supposed to exist can’t sue the government.” Gabe chattered back. The words left his lips on trails of icy smoke.

 

“Yeah, but ‘least those Russian bastards can stand the cold. I may not be able to sue, but if I die you can bet your ass I’m gonna haunt these sons a bitches.” Jesse muttered. Gabe laughed.

 

“How do you like that sniper?” He decided to change the subject.

 

“It’s alright. I still prefer Peacekeeper, though.” Years after joining Blackwatch, Jesse was still trying to perfect his aiming. The only thing the kid had to work on now was sniping. He was good at it - really good, all things considered - but being good was nothing compared to some of the snipers Gabe knew.

 

“Yeah, well, Blackwatch needs a sniper.” Gabe joked. “Overwatch takes all of the good ones.” Jesse laughed at that one. It was easy, living like this. He didn’t have a lot of positive relationships in his life, and he forgot how _nice_ it felt being close to people.

 

Having friends felt good.

 

“Hey boss, do you guys see any suspicious activity going on down in the plaza? I got reports of an unusual amount of omnics.” The voice crackled to life from Reyes’ comm.

 

“Jesse, you see anything?”

 

Jesse didn’t need to look through the scope to scan through the crowd below. He’s always had nearly superhuman eyesight, but even a blind man could tell that something was going on below them. “Lot’s of people are gatherin’ by the fountain, jefe.” He said. “They may be omnic, but they’re covered in too many coats. Can’t rightly tell.”

 

Gabe sighed. “Can we ever have an easy mission? Just _once?_ ” He complained. Speaking into the comm now, he added “Yeah, we’re seeing some weird gathering by the fountain. Keep an eye on things down there, Grant. It could just be a peaceful protest. The new president wasn’t exactly a popular choice.”

 

A different voice came from the comm. Dawson. She was 25 years old, only a year older than Jesse, and their newest recruit. She had a little sister in the hospital with leukemia. “Did you say the fountain, boss?”

 

“Yeah, what about it?”

 

Dawson’s voice sounded panicked. “Set up an evac immediately, boss. There’s a sewer entrance directly by the foun-” Dawson’s comm was cut off.

 

That’s when the explosions started.

 

Like Dawson had suspected (Jesse tried really, really hard not to think about if she was alive or not. She wanted him to teach her how to throw knives) the first bomb went off in the middle of the crowd directly by the fountain. Bodies and water rained everywhere, and screams rose from the rubble. The President was quickly led to the door by men in suits, but another bomb went off right on stage where the podium used to be.

 

“Shit! _Shit!”_ Gabe yelled. He quickly reached for the commlink. “Hello? Is everybody alright? What’s happening down there?”

 

“We’ve had at least two explosions, boss.” Dawson’s voice replied. Another bomb went off by the entrance where people were leaving, and Jesse could hear her choked sob over the comm as he tried to block the screams out and locate the terrorists. “Okay, make that three. I tried to contact Grant, but isn’t responding. The team located outside the plaza is silent as well.”

 

“Jefe.” Jesse yelled. “I think I got something. Somebody’s just standing there, can’t tell if they’re human or omnic, and they’re holding somethin’ in their hands.”

 

“Take the shot.” Gabe rushed over to the edge of the roof and crouched down beside Jesse. “Take the shot now, dammit! There may be more implants.

 

Jesse focused in on lone figure. _In for three, hold for one, out for five._

 

McCree pulled the trigger, and then he and Gabe were thrown into the air off of the rooftop. His last thoughts were _“Goddammit, he was a fuckin’ decoy.”_ And then his world went dark.

 

~~~

 

When Jesse came to, he awoke in a small room. There was so little space that he doubted he could even stretch out completed if he lay down on the filthy, mysteriously stained floor. Of course he wasn’t going to be doing that soon, because he was currently handcuffed to a chair. Something wasn’t right though. He could feel the tug of _two_ different handcuffs; one on each wrist.

 

“Stop _doing_ that, chavalo. My fuckin’ ribs are broken.” A gruff voice growled behind him.

 

Jesse was relieved. “Aw shit, jefe. This is like my Blackwatch interrogation all over again.”

 

“Yeah, that’s great. Could you maybe crack jokes when we aren’t kidnapped and trapped in a broom closet?”

 

“I’m startin’ to think you don’t think I’m funny.” Jesse pouted. Gabe responded with a sharp kick to his leg. “Ah, ouch! Okay, fine, I’ll be serious. Do you know what happened?”

 

“I remember you shooting the omnic, and then I remember the explosion going off behind us. We were launched on the building and fell about three stories to the ground. After that everything is blank, but I think it’s safe to assume we were kidnapped.” Gabe sighed.

 

“This isn’t how I expected my weekend to go.”

 

“You and me both, chico.”

 

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, and Jesse could tell Gabe’s brain was working in overdrive trying to think of a way to escape. “Can’t you pick the handcuffs? You’ve done it before.” Gabe asked.

 

“I had both of my hands. If I was able to see your hand I’d probably be able to guide you, but I can’t. Pickin’ these would be awful hard unless one of us broke an arm.”

 

“That isn’t helpful, chavalo.” Gabe growled.

 

“Not my fault, jefe.”

 

More hours passed by. Jesse could feel how dry his mouth was getting, how much his stomach was clenching with hunger, and he knew that if they didn’t get food or water soon it was going to be a problem. There weren’t any lights in the room, and the only source had been a small window that was slowly dimming as the sun set outside.

 

“Okay. Let’s reassess the situation here.” Gabe began quietly. His voice was hoarse from the lack of water, and it didn’t help that the humidity in the room had to be at least 80%. “Whoever our captors are, they kept us together. This means that they’re either _very_ confident, or they’re very stupid.”

 

“With the whole handcuff setup, I’m leanin’ towards the latter.”

 

“So am I. That means we won’t just be able to muscle ourselves out, which sucks because we don’t have a lot of time before the inevitable bad shit starts to happen.”

 

“What type of bad shit are we talkin’ here?”

 

“The usual. Torture, death, violation of our most basic human rights.”

 

“Now why on Earth would Blackwatch kidnap us?” That got Jesse another hard kick to his leg, and his snicker was replaced with complaints. He went quiet when Gabe’s head shot up towards the hallway.

 

“ _Somebody’s coming down the hallway.”_ He whispered to Jesse in Spanish. _“There’s still a chance they don’t know who we are, so don’t speak in English unless the cover is blown.”_

 

 _“You got it, jefe.”_ Jesse whispered back. For some reason he remembered Gabe telling him long ago that he couldn’t even speak Spanish until high school, and it was obvious now that Jesse was hearing it. Growing up with his mother and then being on the run with his father ensured that Jesse was just a fluent in Spanish as he was in English. Gabe sometimes pronounced words incorrectly, and his accent might not be authentic enough to pass for a native speaker, but it would have to do.

 

A door to Jesse’s right slammed open (no creaks: the place was probably all metal) and the light pouring into the room blinded him momentarily.

 

“And what do we have here?” A strange voice came from the doorway. His voice fluctuations were all wrong. They sounded mechanical, almost, but not like any omnic Jesse had ever heard.

 

“These are the ones we picked up from the Russian inauguration, sir.” A deeper normal voice replied.

 

“Have we figured out who they are, yet?” The voice asked impatiently.

 

“...I’m afraid not, sir.” The deeper voice asked.

 

Jesse and Gabe immediately sighed with relief. If their identities were unknown, that meant they still had a chance of making it out of there alive.

 

“Guess we’ll just have to find out then!” The voice giggled. A single lightbulb was switched on overhead, and Jesse blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness. The man in front of him must’ve belonged to the mechanical voice. He looked exactly like what you would expect some evil scientist to look like - tall and gangly, with too-big glasses and wildly unkempt hair. A strange muzzle-like contraption covered his entire lower jaw, and wire snuck somewhere underneath his collar. That would explain the voice, then.

 

“They were a part of a larger group, but they managed to escape inside a jet. We were unable to track them afterwards, so they’re either part of a government organization or they’re working for somebody big.”

 

Dr. Muzzle looked dismissively at the two men. “I doubt these two are terribly important.” He snorted, kicking Jesse harshly in the leg. The boy helped in pain, and the doctor laughed. “Nothing but grunts, you see! But still, even grunts know _something_. See what you can get out of them.”

 

“Sure thing, doc.” The other man replied. He sounded almost bored, and even though Jesse couldn’t see his face he could almost _hear_ the eyeroll. The good doctor left the room, and the door slammed shut. The feeling of crushing claustrophobia he had experienced briefly on the plane was beginning to creep back into his mind.

 

Jesse could hear the man’s footsteps, but they walked over to Gabe’s side of the room away from him. “Let’s make this quick, please.” The grunt sighed. “I want to get out of here early. My girl’s making lasagna. It be a real shame if I had to miss it interrogating two idiots from some low key organization.”

 

“ _No hablo ingles.”_  Gabe replied.

 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” The guy sighed. Jesse heard footsteps and the man stepped in front of him. Despite his bored tone, the guy look like he knew what he was doing. He must’ve had a least fifty pounds of muscle on Gabe alone, and the dude was at least five inches taller than either man. Jesse swallowed quickly. The cuffs were beginning to chafe against the sore skin of his wrists.

 

 _You’re a Blackwatch agent. The best._ He reminded himself. _You’ve gotten yourself out of worse situations. You’re resourceful. You can make it out of this._

 

“What about you, huh kid?” The man asked. He nudged Jesse’s boot  with his own. “You wanna play dumb too?”

 

 _“No hablo ingles.”_ Jesse repeated. That got him a swift punch to the gut, and Jesse coughed out in pain.

 

“ _Hijo de puta!”_ Gabe snarled. The man ignored him.

 

“I know you idiots can understand me. I’m going to ask a simple question: who do you work for?”

 

Jesse struggled to reply for a second. The air was pooling in his lungs, and for a brief moment he panicked as his lungs refused to exhale. The spell passed, thankfully, and he let out a choppy breath. “ _No sé de qué estás hablando_ . _”_ He wheezed. Another meaty fist crushed into his abdomen.

 

“Who do you work for?” The man asked again.

 

“ _No sé de qué_ _\- oohf!”_ Jesse gasped with pain. Fists struck his chest this time, and he could feel bones crack under the pressure. He had broken a couple of ribs before, and he now had at least three.

 

“I’m going to ask one more time.” The man crouched low to Jesse’s face. “After that I won’t be so nice.”

 

Jesse glared at the man, fire burning in his eyes. He gathered the spit in his mouth and hurled it at the grunt’s face, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva directly into his left eye.

 

The man roared. “You little PUNK!” He shouted. Jesse’s vision went red for a moment, and he could feel the skin beneath his left eye split. It was probably already swelling, too. Son of a bitch. The man raised his fist again (Jesse could only partly see due to the blood filling his vision) when Gabe interfered.

 

“Espere! Espere!” He yelled, straining against the cuffs. The man still held onto the cuff of Jesse’s jacket, but the fist never came down.

 

“What are you saying?” He snarled.

 

Gabe cleared his throat. “My name...Valentino.” He replied slowly. The words sounded choppy, with accents pronounced on the wrong syllables. Jesse had to admit, for somebody that spoke English Gabe was doing a pretty good job of pretending not to. “Boy’s name...Rafael.”

 

The man set Jesse down. “Hey, now we’re getting somewhere. “Who do you work for?”

 

Gabe stayed silent for a minute, like he was struggling to think of the words. “Talon.” He said thickly.

 

“Now we’re talking.” The man smiled wolfishly. “Doc’s going to like that _very_ much. Why was Talon at the Russian inauguration then, huh? Why would you want to stop our guys from eliminating a mutual enemy?”

 

“I can’t…?” Gabe sighed in frustration. “Rafael know good english. Dumb idea, hitting him.” He added bitterly.

 

“Shit.” The guard muttered, drawing his thin eyebrows together. “Can you talk?” He asked. Jesse shook his head.

 

“You want information, si?” Gabe asked. The guard looked up.

 

“That’s the only reason you’re both still alive right now.” The guard agreed.

 

“Get boy doctor. Make him healthy. Then he talk.”

 

The guard grimaced. “Both of you wait here. I’ll go see what the Doc has to say and come back. Either way, this kid,” he kicked the leg of Jesse’s chair for emphasis, “is going to confess what you were up to. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Cristal.” Gabe replied. Jesse could practically hear the smirk on his lips. The blob in Jesse’s vision disappeared with the sound of boots, and the metal door slammed shut. Jesse coughed and cleared and throat a bit before breaking the silence.

 

“So, Valentino, what’s the plan?”

 

“They’re going to come back with help, and most likely take you out of the room. That gives us a very, _very_ short time frame to subdue whoever is in the room and make a break for it.”

 

“There’s a lot of what ifs in that plan, jefe.” Jesse coughed again, blood glistening against the black fabric of his Blackwatch uniform.

 

“What ifs are all we got right now, chavalo.” Reyes growled. Both men quieted when they heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Jesse prayed that their kidnappers were really as clueless as Reyes thought.

 

The door opened once more, and this time the guard was accompanied by another man. “You’re an absolute _brute_.” It was the strange doctor with the mechanical voice. “I told you that we needed information, and you decide to compromise the only one that can speak proper English? I know I hired you for the muscle, but honestly having some brains would be nice.”

 

“I was just tryin’ to get the information out of them.” The guard from before mumbled. His confident demeanor from before was long gone. Something about the doctor scared him, for some reason.

 

“I don’t care what you were trying to do, you fool.” The doctor snarled. “Just unlink their handcuffs.”

 

The guard whispered something Jesse couldn’t hear before kneeling down by the chair and fiddling with the handcuffs. A sharp click resounded through the room and Jesse realized that even though he was still handcuffed, he was no longer bound to Gabe’s chair. The guard tried to help him up and Jesse mockingly (okay, so maybe it was genuine) cried out in pain.

 

“¡Parar!” Jesse cried out. “¡Parar!”

 

“What did you _do_ to the boy, you buffoon?” The doctor growled.

 

“He must be a little more banged up than I thought, doc.” The guard replied sheepishly.

 

The distraction was just what Jesse needed. His hands were freed, but Gabe’s weren’t. It seemed like the handcuffs were specially designed to separately trap the hands. It was ingenious, to say the least, but it made picking the locks _much_ easier. He was halfway through getting Gabe’s second hand free before the guard noticed what he was doing.

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” It was the guard that was facing them and saw Jesse first. “You fucking punk!”

 

“Restrain him, Malikai.” The doctor snarled.

 

Jesse launched himself to the wall, grateful to dodge Malikai’s ham-sized fists but quickly regretting the decision when the impact jarred his ribs. He could year a chair scraping as Gabe stood up, and less than a second later he heard a large snap from behind him, followed by a squishing sound and then a heavy thud. Warm liquid soaked into Jesse’s pant legs and he struggled to stand up, leaning against the wall for support. Something was wrong with his left knee. With every single movement he could feel the joints grind together, and he had to bite down the scream of pain forcing it’s way out of his throat.  


The scientist was no longer in the room - he must’ve run away, and Jesse couldn’t blame the poor guy given the scene in front of him. Gabe was standing in the middle of the room, splattered with blood that wasn’t his own and breathing heavily. The broken remains of a three legged chair lay at his feet, and the fourth leg was shoved through Malikai’s chest.

 

“You okay, chavalo?” Gabe asked calmly.

 

“Yeah.” Jesse went to take a stop and fell to his knees as his left leg gave out. Gabe quickly grabbed him, hoisting Jesse’s left arm over his shoulders and bearing the kid’s body weight with a loud groan. “My leg’s fucked, jefe.” Jesse gasped.

 

“We’ll get it fixed, I promise. I know a doctor. A really, really good one.” Gabe promised. They walked out the door into the very end of a large hallway that was seemingly made entirely out of metal. Many of the lights were out, providing sparse lighting. Everything looked strangely empty. There were no other people running around or trying to attack them it was like a ghost town. “We need to find our stuff.”

 

“Do you think they kept it?” Jesse groaned. Even with Gabe’s help, walking was putting a hell of a strain on his injured leg.

 

“We better hope so. There’s no other way of getting out of this hellhole without our commlinks.”

 

They kept hobbling on, not speaking a single sound. An unspoken agreement hatched between the two. They had been very, _very_ lucky so far, and right now they couldn’t afford to run out of that luck. Being trapped here could very well mean death, and people in their line of work were always prepared for the worst.

 

The worse didn’t happen. Not yet.

 

Gabe found their things in a small room that reminded Jesse of his first Blackwatch interrogation. The boy almost started crying when Reyes plopped his hat on top of his head.  

 

“C’mon... _connect,_ you piece of shit, fucking _connect_ …” Gabe growled. The signal crackled to life and both men sighed with relief. Jesse’s leg was numb at this point now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go until it became permanently damaged.

 

“Hello? Hello? This is Commander Reyes reporting from an unknown location. I repeat, this is Commander Reyes reporting from an unknown location. Does anybody copy?” Gabe barked.

 

All was silent for a couple of minutes. Reyes was about to check the other comm when his crackled to life again. _“Commander Reyes, this is Watchpoint: Switzerland. It’s good to hear from you, sir.”_

 

“Thank God.” Gabe sighed. “You have no idea how good it is to hear from you guys. We are currently held up in an unknown location in what looks to be an abandoned Talon bunker. The base seems to be abandoned, and there are no signs of hostiles. Are you able to track the comm signal?”

 

 _“Tracking it now.”_ The voice replied. _“You’re not far from the Switzerland base, sir. I’m sending out a rescue copter as we speak. It should be at your location in about forty minutes.”_

 

“Try and hurry. I’ve got Agent McCree with me, and we’re both pretty worse for wear. Is Mercy at the Switzerland base?”

 

_“She is, sir. We will try and retrieve you two as quickly as possible. Until then, lay low and try and get outside.”_

 

“Got it. Commander out.” Reyes placed the comm on the table, keeping it linked in case they still needed it to track the coordinates. “We need to get outside, Jesse. Do you think your knee can handle it?”

 

“Guess we’ll have to find out, huh?” Jesse replied. It was times like this where he really envied the super soldier. After walking around for only a couple of minutes Gabe’s ribs were starting to look better and he was walking straight instead of hunched over. It made the pain in Jesse’s on chest that much more obvious, and he tried not to make a noise as Reyes took his body weight over his shoulder again.

 

The hallways were still empty. The whole scene was completely unnerving, to say the least. Who were the people that kidnapped them? Why were they at the Russian inauguration? How did they kidnap two covert ops specialists?

 

Gabe must’ve been having similar thoughts. “I don’t like this, chavalo.” Reyes muttered as he continued to drag Jesse along to the double doors at the end of the hallway. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

 

Jesse only nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to give a vocal reply without screaming in pain. Yes, they were in a bad situation, but the reassuring weight of the pistols in his pocket and the hat on his head made him feel better. He could tell the weapons did nothing to soothe Gabe’s nerves. For some reason he became even more nervous when Gabe nudged the double doors open with his foot.

 

He became even more nervous when a menacing hissing sound as soon as Gabe opened them completely.

 

“The pipes.” They realized at the some time. The smell of some sort of gas hit Jesse straight in the face and forced both men into coughing fits. Gabe began running as fast as he could with the majority of Jesse’s body weight leaning against him. He may have been a super soldier, but it still took them upwards of 30 seconds to make it to the door at the other end of the hallway and by then Jesse could see spots of black dotting his vision. Whatever the gas was seemed to coat his mouth and throat and lungs. He couldn’t _breathe._ All he could do was hope and pray for fresh air behind that door.

 

Their luck hadn’t run out just yet. The doors opened out to a small plain surrounded by sparse trees on every side. The colossal building behind them still emitted the gas, and Jesse could actually see it rising up against the oxygen outside. Jesse collapsed as soon as they were out the door, partly dragging Gabe down with him. He couldn’t feel any part of his left leg anymore, and every single bodily movement caused the bones in his knee to grind together.

 

“C’mon, chavalo, we have to get away from the building.” Gabe coughed. “This type of gas is used for explosions.” He forced Jesse up, now completely carrying the boy’s body weight in his arms. “We have to _go_ Jesse.”

 

“My leg’s busted, jefe, I can’t-”

 

“We have to move, Jesse.” The urgency in Gabe’s voiced cracked in panic as he started awkwardly jogging with Jesse in his arms. They hadn’t gotten very far before a huge _boom_ resonated behind them. The sound echoed through the ground, and Jesse could feel it more than hear it.

 

Their luck had run out, and many bad things happened at once.

 

The explosion was set of near the middle of the building, ensuring the radius of the blast completely engulfed the small clearing surrounding it. The flames never left the concrete confines of the structure, but the shockwave was the worst part. The initial blast caused Gabe to drop Jesse, and then sent him tumbling down a steep hill. Jesse and Gabe had been _so close_ to the cover of the forest. Gabe didn’t know it at the time, but tripping down the hill into the woods is probably what spared him from most of the damage.

 

Jesse was still up in the clearing, completely uncovered.

 

A second blast went off, this one more powerful than the first. Jesse had been trying to lean his weight against a rock and had been knocked over onto his back, completely knocking the air out of his lungs and darkening his vision. He felt something _crack_ in his left leg - the fucking knee - but was in too much shock to register the pain. The second explosion sent pieces of rubble and shrapnel flying from the building, most of which flew only a couple of feet before crash landing into the ground.

 

Time stopped.

 

Jesse saw a piece of broken iron shrapnel come flying straight for him.

 

He turned onto his side, left arm raised into the air in a feeble attempt to stop the rubble.

 

There was a strange tugging sensation just above his elbow, and then an incredible feeling of warmth and drowsiness.

 

Darkness took over his vision, and Jesse was too tired to fight back against his heavy eyes.

 

~~~

 

Gabriel was only unconscious for a couple of minutes after the first blast, but it was enough of a time lapse to make him panic. He took deep, even breaths, recalling his SEP training on how to handle situations like this. It was hardly the first time he woke up in the middle of a dangerous situation without knowing what was going on.

 

_The ground is still cold; I haven’t been out for long. Couple of minutes at most judging from the lack of headache. I am at the bottom of the hill, the uprooted plants and cracked branches probably mean I used to be at the top. Nobody is with me. I am alone._

 

Gabe furrowed his eyebrows. The thought didn’t feel right. _I am alone. Alone… the mission. The escape. The explosion._

 

“Jesse.” Gabe whispered. He ran up the hill as fast as his body was physically capable of, ignoring the screams of protest from his chest and his legs. It was steep and he was forced to run on all fours, but it didn’t matter. He had never run so fast in his entire life.

 

The clearing was a mess. There was no longer a building, just a piled of ash and smoke littered with rubble on all sides. Thick tendrils of gray smog drifted lazily into the sky, staining the soft blue hues into a greasy gray color. There was no sign of red amongst the rubble.

 

“Jesse!” Gabe yelled, voice cracking from the strain. “Jesse!” He searched around the clearing, avoiding the scorched areas near the old building structure. Nobody could’ve survived the blast the close, and he refused to even acknowledge the possibility of the boy being _there._ “Jesse! Where are you?”

 

This time his question was answer with a strangely gurgled groan. Gabe ran immediately to the sound without hesitation, jumping over the larger pieces of rubble and shrapnels of metal that seemed to congregate near this area. His eyes finally locked onto the red he had been searching for, and Gabe ran even faster before sliding onto his knees by Jesse’s side.

 

McCree’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing and that was all that mattered. Gabe tapped his cheek. “McCree, wake up.” He ordered. The kid didn’t stir, and Gabe hit him harder. “Wake up _cabron_ , come _on -”_

 

Jesse’s eyes surged open, and Gabe muttered a quick prayer in his head. “Jefe.” He gasped.

 

“It’s okay kid, you’re gonna be-” Gabe went to grab Jesse’s arm to hoist him up but got nothing but a fistful of disgustingly warm mud. He went again, but got the same thing. His eyes wandered over to Jesse’s left side, and Gabe was barely able to contain the sob building in his chest.

 

Jesse’s entire left forearm was missing.

 

He knew something was up immediately after seeing the look on Reyes’ face. “Jefe.” McCree’s voice cracked, like he was nothing but a 17 year old kid again. “Jefe, I can’t feel my arm. Why can’t I feel my arm, Gabe?”

 

Gabe hands shook from shock, but other than that he stood completely still. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t _do_ anything. He couldn’t even stop Jesse from lifting up the stump - his arm - and examining it.

 

“Huh.” He smiled strangely. “Would you look at that?”

 

Jesse’s screams knocked Gabe back into reality. The kid was curled into himself, the stub that remained of his arm bleeding profusely against his chest as it wracked with sobs. Gabe could see the veins trying to pump blood through a passage that wasn’t there anymore. He quickly unbuckled his belt, unclipping the holsters and other attachments to leave the strip of leather bare so that he could wrap it against Jesse’s arm. The belt wasn’t the best makeshift tourniquet, but it was all Gabe had until help arrived soon. God, he prayed they would be here soon. They _had_ to be. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they weren’t.

 

Gabe held Jesse’s sobbing form in his arm, blood running cold as he heard Jesse’s sobs slowly grow weaker and weaker. “It’s going to be okay, Jesse.” Gabe whispered into the kid’s blood-matted hair. “Trust me.”

 

The sobs went silent and Gabe’s heart stood still for a moment before Jesse coughed. “Gabe?” He rasped. “I don’t...I don’t wanna die, jefe. I don’t wanna die.”

 

Gabe’s own tears started to run down his cheeks into Jesse’s hair. “You’re not going to die.” He lied. “Everything is going to be alright. Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise you, mijo. I promise”

 

Gabe kept on saying these things; calling him _mijo_ and promising that everything was going to be alright as Jesse’s face slowly turned white and his skin became increasingly pale and clammy. Gabe kept on saying these lies even as he heard the rumble of the helicopter overhead and the sharp crunching noises as it landed on the ruins of the building. He didn’t let go of Jesse, even when they pulled him from his arms and placed him on a gurney to wheel him into the helicopter. He just kept lying calmly into Jesse’s ear, telling him everything was alright even as he knew deep down in his gut that they were too late.

 

Jesse believed him, though. Everything was already alright. He felt so warm and peaceful and sleepy, and somewhere off in the distance he could hear a beautiful woman singing a song in Spanish. Jesse recognized the song, but couldn’t remember from where. He couldn’t even see the woman, didn’t even know what she looked like, but he could tell she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world, singing to him, calling to him, telling him to lay down and close his eyes…

 

But than another voice was shouting in his ear, screaming things like “Don’t give up on me now, Jesse, not like this.” and “You can’t die on me, mijo.”. Jesse didn’t know what voice to listen to. The woman made him feel so peaceful, and the soft light that held her was _so close._ Just barely an arm’s reach away. He wanted to touch the light. He wanted to be with the beautiful woman and her soothing voice. His fingers reached out for it, dancing carefully along the golden edges, and the singing stopped. All he could hear now was the man screaming in his ear. He sounded upset, sadder than Jesse had ever heard _anybody_ sound before, and he didn’t like it. The screaming voice being upset felt so utterly _wrong_ to him. Jesse wanted to help him.

 

 _“It’s not your time, mijo.”_ The golden light whispered. _“Go back to them.”_

 

Then the golden light fled, ripping him from the warmth and peace and throwing him into a world of pain and cold _._ The calming song had disappeared, gone with the golden light, and all Jesse could hear in the world was Gabriel’s sobs over the steady rhythm of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> parts of this were kinda tedious to write, parts of it made me wanna cry. poor Jesse. poor Gabe :(
> 
>  
> 
> FUN FACT TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD! Originally, this fic was going to be like a Van Helsing!AU sort of thing. Overwatch was going to an evil monster hunting organization, and Gabe was going to take in Jesse and be his mentor after poor little McCree's family gets killed by vampires. Gabe becomes an Edgy VampireTM after the Swiss explosion and when Jesse found out he was gonna be like "~oh noesss ultimate betrayal!~" About halfway through writing the first chapter I just kind of forgot about the vampire/monster hunting part and focused on baby cinnamon roll McCree instead.


	8. a brief interruption brought to you by Gabriel Reyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the makings of the beginning of the end.

Jesse didn’t wake up. Not right away, at least. As soon as the helicopter landed at the Swiss base the medics put him in a medically induced coma to keep him stabilized. Gabe was alone.

Centuries of medical advancements and you could still easily die from losing a limb.

Bullshit.

Jesse’s saving grace - and the only reason Gabe hadn’t strangled any of the other medical personnel - was a young woman named Angela. She was only Jesse’s age, but that didn’t stop her from being one of the most accomplished and skilled doctors in the world. Overwatch recruited her around the same time Gabe recruited Jesse. “He is going to be fine, Commander.” The woman promised him, her accent surprisingly soothing and the hand on his shoulder surprisingly comforting. “He is in good hands. You should get some rest.”

He didn’t, of course. Instead Gabe sat by Jesse’s bedside day and night, through the vitals checks and bandage changes and all of the medical jargon he couldn’t even hope to understand. It was almost like being in SEP all over again, except this time Jesse was the one on the hospital bed in a coma. The doctors only had a rough estimate of when they’d be able to wake him up, and that wasn’t good enough for Gabe. Nothing ever was anymore.

“You need to get some sleep. You’re not helping anybody by sitting here and waiting for nothing.” Oh no. Gabe could recognize that voice anywhere. He could identify it in his sleep.

“Fuck off, Jack.” Gabe growled, sinking lower into the chair. He really did not need this right now.

“You didn’t even go to the mission debrief, Gabe-” Jack reach out to gently place his hand on his shoulder. Gabe stood up immediately, swatting away Jack’s hand, enraged at the thought that Jack would dare to act like he cared, that he would dare to use his first name after all of this time -

“I had to be here for him.” Gabe snarled. “He was in critical condition. He almost died.”

“But he didn’t, and he’s stabilized now.” Jack reassured. The soothing tone the blonde man was using made his blood boil, made him want to hit something and keep hitting until his knuckles bled, but he didn’t. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth and bit his tongue. “The rest of Blackwatch needs you too, Gabe. They’re reeling from that last mission. A lot of good people were lost.”

“Don’t remind me.” Gabe snarled.

“You need reminding. People need you more than McCree does right now. There’s a jet heading out to Grand Mesa in the morning; maybe you can-”

“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought if you think I’m leaving Jesse across a fucking ocean, golden boy.” Gabe spat. He sees the hurt flash briefly through Jack’s eyes. He hadn’t used the nickname since their earliest SEP days. Gabe knew how much Jack hated it.

“Well then maybe it’s time for Blackwatch to join the rest of us here in Switzerland.” Jack snapped back. Gabe froze.

“No no no, that is absolutely not what I meant pendejo, that is not happening-”

“It was going to happen eventually.” Jack replied. There was bitterness in his voice instead of anger now. It was one of the reasons Gabe ~~was jealous of~~  hated the Commander; he could never stay angry for too long. “Not because of the UN or me. Because of you.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes at Jack, brown boring into blue. “What the hell do you mean?”

Jack glanced away. “They’ve been looking at Jesse’s records and mission standings.” He sighed. “They want him to join Overwatch, Gabe.”

Reyes’ response was immediate and explosive. “No, no, absolutely NOT, they aren’t taking him from me they can’t-”

“Listen to me, Gabe.” Jack snapped. Gabe stopped yelling for a second and stared at the strike commander. “It’s gonna happen. There’s nothing you or Jesse can do to stop it. You can make it difficult, though.”

“How?”

“Only give him up partly. Let Overwatch use him for the really important things, but otherwise he’s yours. Bring all of Blackwatch over here to make them feel like they have more control over it as a payment.”

Gabe thought over it. They thought of relinquishing control over Blackwatch - even if it was just pretend - made his head ache. But the thought of completely losing Jesse for good was even worse. “Why are you helping me with this?” Gabe snapped.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess I’m just tired of seeing you destroy yourself, and it’s clear the kid is helping you more than I ever could.” He sighed.

Gabe didn’t respond for a while, and sat back down instead. “Tell the UN to begin transferring all Blackwatch units here ASAP.” He muttered. “Don’t tell them about Jesse though. I...I want to talk to him about it first.”

“Okay.” He began to turn around, heading towards the door.

“Jack?” Gabe asked cautiously.

“Yeah?” He paused, arm stretched out to the door handle and body only half turned to Gabe.

“Thanks. I guess.” He muttered. Jack only smiled sadly before opening the door and leaving.

Gabe hated this. He hated everything about it. He hated that he needed Jack’s help, hated that he was grateful for it. Hated the Jack was always the one who could come up with solutions and never him. Hated how he was going to have his every action watched and questioned now just to keep his own goddamn agent. He hated the UN. He hated Overwatch.

He hated Jack.

It was there, sitting in an artificially lit hospital ward at 3 am, staring at Jesse’s sleeping form, that Gabe began to think of a plan of his own. He leaned back in his chair, smiling wolfishly at the ceiling as the thoughts began to rush through his head. It was an idea he had thought about for a while, but had been too chicken to bring it to light til now.

“Oh, yeah. That’ll work.” Gabe laughed darkly.

He was going to get Overwatch back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter but V IMPORTANT!!!! Gabe is one of my favorite characters, don't get me wrong, but Reaper is so twisted and hateful that the buildup HAD to have started years before Overwatch fell. Not to mention as much as I love his father/son relationship with Jesse, I always imagined him to be kind of possessive. Like he's lost so many people and things in his life and he'll be damned if he loses Jesse, too. This will backfire sometime in the future. You'll see.
> 
> Some headcanons to lighten the mood:  
> -If Jesse had died during that last mission, Gabe would've snapped and Overwatch would've fallen much sooner  
> -Gabe actually has kinda shitty aim, and that's why he uses two shotguns (also they look cool dammit)  
> -The studded belt Reyes wears wasn't a gift from anybody. he bought that by himself for himself. everybody in Blackwatch hates it.  
> -A lot of Blackwatch members lowkey hate Jesse because of how close he is with Reyes and how much shit he gets away with, but nobody tries to start anything. not only because Reyes would kick their ass but because Jesse probably could, too.  
> -Jesse has never ridden a horse in his entire life. He's never even touched one, and they kind of scare them tbh  
> -gabe loves hot chocolate. like, really REALLY REALLY loves hot chocolate. Jesse has liked his coffee black since he was about 12 years old, but he's also a sucker for some vanilla chai latte every now and then. Jesse doesn't really like candy but Gabe always has a drawerful/bagful/pocketful of the stuff no matter what.  
> -Back when Gabe and Jack were ~a thing~ they used to watch shitty romcoms every Tuesday night. neither man has even looked at a romcom movie since their falling out.


End file.
